


And Baby Makes Three

by geezers



Series: And Baby Makes Three [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: FC Chelsea, Kid Fic, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geezers/pseuds/geezers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/9768.html?thread=4394280#t4394280">this</a> prompt in fk2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to post this as I write it, and I don't have a beta so please excuse any glaringly obvious mistakes. Chapters may vary greatly in length, and I'm not sure how often I'll update, but I've been writing quite a lot. Once Ive finished, I'll go back through and tidy everything up.

_“What?”_

The woman shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “This is Isabel. She is your daughter.”

Juan stumbled backwards, looking down at the tiny baby in the stroller who looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m not sure that this was the best way to spring this on you,” she continued. “But, I’m not ready to take care of a baby, I’m only 23.”

“I’m only 25,” Juan breathed out in an automatic response. “But, are you- are you sure she’s _my baby_?” His tone wasn’t accusatory in the slightest; it was more dumbfounded than anything. 

Carla, the baby’s mother, and a one-night stand Juan had in the summer after Spain had won Euro 2012 threw her hair over her shoulder. “I’m sure Juan, I really am.” He didn’t need to ask again, Juan believed her. She smiled softly. “Look, I’m not saying you have to take her, but I thought you deserved to know she existed.”

As it began to dawn on him what was occurring, Juan realised they were still standing in the threshold of his apartment. He ushered Carla inside, before pushing the stroller into the front room.

“If you’re willing to take care of her, I have the paperwork here – I’m willing to waive my parental rights.”

Juan looked at the stack of papers that she handed him, on top of the pile was Isabel’s birth certificate – which hadn’t been completed. Carla explained that she didn’t fill out the names because she wasn’t sure whose surname to put down.

Carla kept talking, explaining things to Juan, while he listened. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t – it was all so much to take in. But what he did notice was Carla had clearly thought this through, it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision for her.

“I’ve never wanted children – and I still don’t. She’s a gorgeous child, but I don’t feel the connection to her that I know I should.” Juan nodded, understanding what she was saying. 

According to Carla, Isabel was a mere 5 weeks old. Carla had tried to be a mother, but she knew she wasn’t cut out for it. 

“For a few months – while I was pregnant and after I’d given birth – I was trying desperately to find you.” She smoothed down her skirt, like a nervous habit. “But that night we didn’t exchange much more than names.”

“I know, I’m so sorry you had to deal with all of this on your own.” Juan ran a hand through his hair suddenly feeling incredible guilt that he hadn’t been there to help throughout Carla’s pregnancy. 

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.” 

Juan grasped Carla’s hand, “Do you need any money to cover any costs? Is there anything I can do to help?” His voice was a little strained, but his emotions were running high.

Carla chuckled lightly. “I don’t want anything from you, Juan. It’s not why I’m here, I just want to know if you’re willing to be her dad. If not, I’m going to take her back to Spain and put her up for adoption – she deserves a loving home.”

Just as Juan was about to answer, Isabel started fussing in her pram; Carla leaned over to take the baby.

“Wait, do you mind if I..?” Juan asked, gesturing towards the bab- _his daughter_.

Juan took the baby and cradled her in his arms, bouncing her lightly to calm her down.

Carla smiled at the pair from across the sofa. “See, you’re a natural.”

With a grin Juan looked over at her and said, “I think I’m going to do it.” He felt a stronger connection to the child than he had to any other human being and he’d only been aware of her existence for less than an hour. 

“Are you sure, Juan?”

He looked down into Isabel’s blue eyes, and nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

Less than an hour later, Carla left with a kiss on Isabel’s forehead and then another to Juan’s cheek; they’d made an agreement that Juan would keep her updated with a picture every few months and an email every so often to say how the baby was getting on, but other than that, Carla requested no involvement in Isabel’s life. 

“It’s just us now, angel.” Juan mumbled as he closed the door behind Carla.

She responded by rubbing her little nose and promptly falling asleep. Juan carefully placed her into her stroller, still treating her like fine china, he was afraid she might break – Isabel was impossibly tiny. As if from nowhere, Juan realised how unprepared he was to look after a baby, although Carla had left him with a small supply of the essentials (nappies, formula, toys, blankets, and onesies) he knew that it wouldn’t last him long.

For a few minutes, Juan toyed with the idea of taking Isabel out shopping, but then decided against it. While she snoozed next to him, he got out his laptop and ordered everything over the Internet. He ordered a crib, a bassinet, another car seat (the stroller Carla had dismantled into a car seat), more clothes, enough diapers for about 1000 babies, more toys and six books on early childcare.

He put everything on express delivery so they’d arrive as soon as possible. But the baby store he ordered the crib from couldn’t deliver until the next day. So that night, with the television on mute, he settled Isabel on his bed in a nest of blankets and pillows. She gurgled happily as Juan blew raspberries on her tummy, it didn’t take long before her eyelids began to flutter and Isabel drifted off to sleep. 

“Sleep tight, baby girl,” Juan smiled down at her while she slept, he pulled the blanket up over her chest and pressed a feather kiss to her forehead.

That night Juan didn’t sleep a wink; he couldn’t take his eyes off of Isabel. He was scared if he looked away for too long, she’d roll over in her sleep, or something would happen to her. She woke up pretty much every hour on the hour, sometimes for food, once because she needed her nappy changed (Juan didn’t have any of the night time ones yet) and twice because she just felt like crying.


	2. Two

The day after the doorbell rang non-stop with all of the deliveries and Isabel was agitated and fussy. Juan paid the delivery guy an extra £50 to put up the crib and chest of drawers set, he didn’t want to leave Isabel alone.

In a half an hour stint when Isabel was asleep again, he finally remembered to check his phone. Juan had texts from Fernando, Cesar and David asking if he was up for hanging out, he replied to them all saying he was… _busy_. Cesar and David didn’t press him, but Fernando texted a few more times telling Juan that he sucked and that they should hang out together. Juan was about to go and tidy his front room, which looked like Babies R Us had exploded in there, when his compatriot decided to call. 

As Juan picked up the phone, he prayed that Isabel would keep quiet. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want Fernando (or anyone) to know about her yet, he just didn’t - he wasn’t ready.

“Hey hombre,” Juan mumbled sleepily down the line, the fact that he hadn’t slept in nearly 30 hours was hitting him slowly.

“Hey,” Fernando replied cheerily. “Why won’t you hang out with me?” Juan could picture the striker on the other end of the phone with his bottom lip jutted out, pouting.

“I told you, I’m busy.”

“What’s got you so busy, that you can’t hang out with me?”

As if right on cue, Isabel started wailing at the top of her lungs.

“Is that a baby?” Fernando asked. “Are your cousins over again?” When Juan didn’t answer, his friend continued. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m gonna come over and hang out, is that okay?”

Before Juan could protest and tell Fernando that he didn’t think it was a good idea, Fernando had already bid him goodbye, promising to be over in 20 minutes. 

Those 20 minutes passed with Juan sitting on his sofa, with Isabel resting on his chest and he fretted about how to break the news to Fernando. What he didn’t realise is that in those few minutes, he accidentally fell asleep. 

He woke up sometime later, his mind was groggy and he didn’t feel the same weight on his chest. Before he’d even fully opened his eyes, Juan jumped up from the sofa wondering how he could be such a terrible father that he lost his child in less than a fortnight. Juan rubbed his eyes and called Isabel’s name, it only occurred to him later that she was only 7 weeks old and wouldn’t have been able to reply. 

“Juan, _shh_!” Came a hushed reply from Juan’s bedroom.

As fast as his feet could take him, Juan ran along the hardwood floor, skidding to a stop outside his bedroom. He pushed the door open to reveal Fernando sitting by the crib, his arm resting over the side and he ran the back of his finger delicately along Isabel’s cheek. 

Softly Juan picked his daughter up and hugged her close, his ragged breathing slowly becoming even once more. In that moment, the young Spaniard realised how much his life had changed forever, that he wouldn’t be able to rest without knowing that his daughter was safe. Juan rested his nose on top of her head, inhaling as the wisps of dark brown hair tickled his nose.

A cough interrupted their moment. “So...are you going to explain? Did your cousin Maria have another baby?”

Juan just stared at Fernando trying to pick the perfect phrasing for what happened to him in the previous few days.

“Did you steal a baby?” Fernando asked, cocking his head at his teammate. “Juanito, I told you kidnap isn’t the way to acquire a child. You need to take this baby back to where it came from-”

“It’s my baby.” Juan said quietly. Fernando didn’t reply, he just kept talking and for a second, Juan wondered whether the striker had heard him at all.

“You know, you just need to find a nice girl, settle down and then a baby will come- wait, _what_?”

“This is Isabel,” Juan said, as Isabel hiccupped and waved her chubby fist and bumped it against Juan’s chin. 

Fernando rose from the bed and walked over to Juan. “What do you mean _your_ baby?”

“I slept with this girl called Carla last summer. She got pregnant, and didn’t tell me. A few days ago, she showed up and told me Isabel was my daughter. Carla wasn’t ready to be a mother, so I’ve taken full legal responsibility for her. She’s mine.”

Fernando’s mouth fell open, and stayed open for a few moments. “This is a lot to take in,” he breathed out as he fell back onto the bed again.

“Tell me about it,” Juan said lightly bouncing Isabel. 

 

It wasn’t until Fernando asked how Juan’s mother took finding out that she was an Abuelita that Juan realised he hadn’t actually told any of his family, or anyone, about Isabel. Fernando was the first person to find out.

Fernando tried not to, but ultimately couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at his friend. “Well you better tell them soon Juan,” Fernando said, waving a rattle in front of Isabel who lay on her brightly coloured mat. Her unfocussed eyes vaguely followed the toy, but Juan guessed she mostly liked the colours.

Juan decided to call his mother and father to tell them about the baby; Fernando said he’d watch Isabel while he did so.

“Don’t leave her on her own, will you?” Juan said hovering by the door, he’d never let Isabel out of his sight for more than a few seconds at a time.

“You’re going across out into the living room, I think I can cope.” Fernando said, pushing his younger friend out of the room.

Juan’s parents weren’t all that pleased that he hadn’t told them they’d become grandparents. Well, they were pleased that they had their first grandchild, but not so pleased that Juan had neglected to tell them for almost 10 days. They promised to fly to London and see her the following week. Knowing that his parents wouldn’t be able to keep this type of secret, he didn’t need to tell any other relatives about Isabel – they’d find out soon enough. There was only one person in his family that he needed to tell – his sister, Paula.

“I’M A TÍA*?” His older sister had screeched down the phone, when Juan revealed the news. “I am coming to see mi sobrinita* as soon as I can!” Paula was working in Hong Kong, but her work out East was nearing completion.

With a sigh of relief, Juan closed the door to the nursery behind him and slumped back against it. “All done.” 

“Not yet,” Fernando corrected as he lay on the mat too, resting Isabel on his chest. “You haven’t told David, you know he’ll be over here in a flash to see this little angel.” As if it were scripted, Isabel promptly spit up on Fernando’s shirt and began to bawl.

Juan scooped her up in his arms and went into the kitchen to wet a napkin for Fernando to wipe his shirt. Back in the front room, Fernando had disappeared. He returned a few seconds later wearing one of Juan’s tops, although it was a little small on him and stretched across the chest and around the arms.

“I feel like the Hulk in your tiny clothes,” Fernando said.

“You’re just lucky you found something without spit up on it, it seems like she’s thrown up on everything I own, and I’ve not had any time to do any laundry.” Juan said, averting his gaze from the taut fabric around his friend’s bicep.

“Let me help you out, I’ll put on some laundry for you while you give Isabel a bath. Deal?”

10 minutes later when Juan was pouring warm water over Isabel’s shoulder’s Fernando reappeared, “Dude, I was going to cook something, but it seems you have no adult food in your house…but enough baby food to last you a lifetime.”

“Haven’t had any time to cook or go grocery shopping,” He massaged baby shampoo into Isabel’s hair while she splashed the water up accidentally, scaring herself. “Been living on take away.”

“Right, we’re going shopping when you’ve given Isabel her bath,” Fernando said. “Your daddy can’t live on take always can he? He’s a footballer; he won’t be able to run up and down the pitch and out skill those Tottenham players, will he? Your daddy is so silly,” Fernando said talking to Isabel as though Juan wasn’t in the room.

“Stop bad-mouthing me to my baby!” Juan gasped playfully, covering Isabel’s little ears.

“She was bound to find out how silly you are sooner or later,” Fernando ducked out of the way of a flying stuffed elephant with a grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tía = aunt  
> *mi sobrinita = my little niece


	3. Three

It seemed that as soon as Juan told David about Isabel the Brazilian was on his doorstep moments later. “Where is this beautiful baby? Let me see her!” David grinned when he arrived.

He almost bounced into the front room and saw her playing on the play cushion that Juan’s parents had shipped over. David scooped her up and held her against his chest, muttering things to her in Portuguese, occasionally switching to Spanish so Juan could understand him.

Isabel instantly took a shine to David and rested her head on his chest while he pressed kisses to the crown of her head. David loved Juan's baby. 

“So now I can buy all the cute baby things I see, yes?” David asked, placing her back down on the play cushion, not before dropping another kiss on to the end of her button nose. 

Juan chuckled. “There’s nothing I can say that would stop you, is there?”

David shook his head; his abundance of curls flying all over the place. “Nope, not at all.” He held out his finger and Isabel wrapped all of her tiny fingers around one of his, it was kind of adorable. “You don’t mind, do you, fofinha*?” 

Isabel sneezed and kicked out her feet. “That was definitely her saying she doesn’t mind.” David bumped shoulders with Juan and smiled. 

 

Much like David, Juan’s parents loved Isabel too (how could they not). The pair of them cooed over her the whole weekend that they were in England. They had the same idea as David, when they arrived they had a whole suitcase full of things for Isabel. 

“This was your blanket when you were a baby, I thought we could keep it in the family and pass it down a generation.” Juan took the purple and blue striped blanket and draped it over Isabel as she lay in his father’s arms. 

 

The next week or so contained many family members, friends and teammates coming over to the flat to see the baby. Isabel was an angel most of the time, not minding being passed from person to person and barely crying unless she was hungry or needed changing. 

It was when she started to become fussy that Juan decided she’d had enough and politely asked his family and friends to stave off coming over for a while so Isabel could take a breather. So it was a shock when one morning he heard his doorbell ring. Without waiting for Juan to invite him in, Fernando breezed into the flat.

“I came over because I know you’re not looking after yourself again, are you?” he stated before Juan even had a chance to ask his friend why he was there.

Juan looked around at the toys spread over the room, Isabel’s things that littered nearly every surface and dirty clothes that were everywhere and shrugged at Fernando. For a tiny baby who was carried nearly everywhere, her stuff was on nearly every available surface in the flat.

“Okay, go and change Isabel, I’m taking you grocery shopping again, because I know you’re down to ready meals.”

“Am not.” The younger man said with a pout. “There’s a carrot in the fridge.”

After he’d packed Isabel’s nappy bag, three went to the local supermarket. Fernando led them around the store, putting all sorts of things into the trolley. “What do I need…Sencha Aloe Vera tea for?”

“It boosts your immune system, so you’re less likely to catch something and make Isabel ill. And it tastes like pineapple, what’s there not to love?” Fernando said happily, plucking the box from Juan’s hand and dropping it into the trolley. 

Juan decided to let Fernando do his thing; instead he concentrated on making silly faces for Isabel who sat in the seat at the front of the trolley. She gurgled happily at him and waved her chubby fists in the air when he pretended to munch on her little onsie covered feet. 

As the three of them were going towards the till, Juan realised, well smelt, he needed to go and change Isabel. Fernando shooed him away and got in line, placing the shopping on the conveyor belt. 

When he returned, Fernando was nowhere to be seen be the checkout, Juan found him waiting in the car. It was only once they got home that Juan realised Fernando had paid for all his shopping.

 

One thing that Juan hadn’t thought about was who was going to look after Isabel when the season began again and he would have to fly all over the world to play football. That became crystal clear to him when he found out he was in the final squad for the Confederations Cup. He’d managed to get out of the friendlies in America by telling Del Bosque that he’d recently become a father – the coach was sympathetic and omitted Juan from the squad that flew out to the USA. The coach claimed that the reason was merely ‘technical’ (as Juan had said he wasn’t ready to go public about Isabel) when the journalists realised that he wasn’t going on the trip.

“I know someone who’s really good, Pepe and Yolanda hired her in Liverpool, but had to let her go because she wanted to move down to London. Her name is Liz, Pepe used to gush about how great she was with his kids – and you know Pepe doesn’t trust just anyone with his children.” Juan nodded, knowing that the goalkeeper was fiercely protective of his children. Juan had never quite understood it until he had Isabel – he totally got it now. 

Fernando fished around in his pockets for his mobile. “I’ll send Pepe a text, and see if he can send me her number. Hopefully she’s not working right now.”

“You hear that Isabel? You’re going to get a nanny! Someone to look after you while I’m away doing my job,” Juan trailed off a little at the end of his sentence.

“Are you okay?” Fernando asked, putting a hand on Juan’s knee.

“…I don’t know if I’m going to be able to leave her.”

A smile made its way onto Fernando’s lips; Juan had taken to parenting like he had to playing at Chelsea; with an ease and intelligence that was far beyond his years. He couldn’t help but admire how his friend had grown up over the incredibly short period that he’d had a daughter. 

“It’s going to be hard, but I think you’ll be able to do it. Isabel knows her daddy is a world class footballer and she loves it, don’t you Izzy?” Fernando asked, he took Isabel from her spot on the mat and she squealed happily and bumped her chubby fists together. “See, she’ll be fine!”

Within seconds Isabel had fallen asleep in the striker’s arms and he offered to put her to bed. 

“Thank you,” Juan scratched idly at his beard, which was sort of getting out of control. He really should get around to shaving. “I’ll put some popcorn in the microwave, we can watch a film.”

“That sounds great, but none of the dumb Woody Allen films that you like!” Fernando whispered over Isabel’s head.

“Shut up, you love them!” Juan laughed, sticking his tongue out.

Fernando returned and they settled down to watch Annie Hall (Fernando had given in quite easily to Juan’s protests). Juan remembered the opening credits and nothing more. He woke up some time later, feeling someone poking him.

His eyes flickered open to see Fernando standing in front of him offering a hand. “Come on, time for bed, hombre.”

“But-” Juan tried to stop him. “Isabel.” He gestured to the baby monitor he’d been clutching in his sleep. 

The monitor was swiped out of his hands and Fernando actually pushed Juan into his bedroom and shut the door. Not before saying “I’ll get up with her tonight, get some fucking sleep.” Now, Juan knew Fernando didn’t swear much (off the football pitch), so he didn’t want to mess with him. He just fell face first on to his bed and was asleep within seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fofinha = cutie


	4. Four

“So, when can I see my beautiful little girl again?” David asked on the phone.

“Whenever you want-” 

“Juan, where are the clean nappies? I can’t find any and Isabel needs changing.” Fernando called from down the hall.

“They should be in the red plastic box next to the dresser in Isabel’s room!” He called back before turning his attention once more to David.

“Who was that?” the Brazilian asked.

“Just Fernando.”

“Oh, is he at yours again?” When David had called the day before, Juan had just been leaving to go to the park with Fernando and Isabel.

“Yeah, he stayed over last night.”

There was a pregnant pause, lasting a little too long, verging on becoming uncomfortable. “I’m coming over to see my baby girl! I’ll see you soon Matinha!”

 

Juan perched on the sofa ordering another dress for Isabel on the Internet, while Fernando sat on the floor with his back against the sofa. The striker sat with his knees bent and rested Isabel on his thighs. 

“Are you talking to her about Atleti again?” Juan looked up from his laptop.

Fernando sheepishly avoided his gaze, but Juan heard him tell Isabel that Real Madrid were ‘terrible, and that there was only one team in Madrid worth supporting’. 

“I told you already, she’s going to be an avid Real Oviedo supporter.” He closed the lid of his laptop and scooped her out of Fernando’s arms and swooped her around the room. “She has better taste than Atletico Madrid.”

“I don’t think she does!” The older man told Juan to unzip Isabel’s tiny hoodie.

“Are you kidding me? I knew I shouldn’t have let you dress her this morning.” Under the hoodie Isabel was wearing an Atletico Madrid shirt.

Just as he was about to chastise his teammate for corrupting his child, the doorbell rang. Fernando jumped up and opened the door revealing David, Oscar and Ludy, Oscar’s wife. 

As was routine at this point, Juan just held Isabel out for David to take as soon as he entered the room. The Brazilian was like a miracle worker with his daughter, although luckily, she was a very calm baby, she seemed content to a level that wasn’t attainable whenever David wasn’t around.

“We bought her a gift!” Ludy said happily, giving Juan a gift bag. He opened it to reveal a baby-sized Brazil shirt, and on the back it said ‘ISABEL 10’. “I put my number on the back because I’m clearly her favourite,” Oscar said with a wink and David nudged him in the ribs.

“At least I know she’ll never be short of football shirts to wear!” Juan chuckled. Along with Oscar’s gift, and Fernando’s Atletico shirt, Isabel had been sent an Liverpool shirt from Pepe, a Spain shirt from Sergio, and another from David Villa, a Chelsea shirt from JT and a Real Madrid shirt from Iker.

“And that’s the way it should be,” Oscar smiled, taking a picture with Isabel on his phone.

“She’s going to be a world-class footballer when she gets older.” David spoke, taking the rag off of Juan’s lap to wipe the drool that was dribbling down Isabel’s cheek. “Isabel Mata is going to be so amazing, even Cristiano Ronaldo is going to be put to shame.”

“Isabel is going to be amazing no matter what she chooses to do.” Juan said, while Isabel looked over at him from Oscar’s lap. Juan was sure she was agreeing with him, his baby was incredibly intelligent. 

“You are so totally in love with her.” Ludy couldn’t help but notice the wonderment that glittered in Juan’s eyes as he looked a his daughter.

“It’s because she’s perfect!” David declared, taking yet another picture of Isabel.

From behind him, Juan heard Fernando almost inaudibly say, “She is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short this is, it was the next natural break in the story. Hopefully the next one should be up soon.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading!


	5. Five

The next morning, Juan got a phone call from Pepe who told him that unfortunately Liz already had another job, so she wouldn’t be able to look after Isabel while Juan was away for the Confederations Cup.

Juan didn’t have any time feel defeated, within seconds; Fernando called him and said he’d lined up some interviews for nannies. 

“Wait, how did you know that Liz wouldn’t be able to look after Isabel?”

“I didn’t, I organised these interviews anyway, and we’ve got to see who is the best out there. We can’t let any crazy person take care of Isabel, even if Pepe did recommend her.” Juan laughed softly.

“So, when are these interviews then?” Juan said, holding Isabel’s bottle as she steadfastly refused to keep it in her mouth.

“Well, see, that’s the thing…they’re this afternoon – I forgot to tell you yesterday.” Fernando sounded guilty on the other end of the line. 

“That’s fine, seeing as we’re supposed to be leaving for Brazil in less than a week.” Juan fiddled with the phone, resting it between his ear and shoulder. He picked Isabel up from her high chair, after she’d fussily finished her bottle and placed her on the front of his shoulder, and began burping her. 

“I’ll be over soon – do you need anything? You were running out of pasta when I was at yours on Monday, did you get some more?” Fernando queried caringly. 

Juan rubbed circles on Isabel’s back. “Yeah, I did an online shop yesterday, don’t you worry about me.”

“But you know I do,” the striker said before bidding his friend goodbye.

Isabel began to bawl, her little face turning red as she continued to cry her eyes out. 

“What’s wrong with you my little lady?” Juan said, holding Isabel out in front of him and looking straight into her bright blue eyes.

She scrunched up her face and whined, even when Juan wrapped her in the blanket that was his when he was a baby. Usually it calmed her right down when she was being troublesome. For the next hour until the first interviewee knocked on Juan’s door, Isabel fussed non-stop.

Fernando sat next to Juan on the sofa with a clipboard in hand, and a long list of questions to ask each applicant. The first person, a young woman called Josie, seemed nice enough, but her lack of experience worried Juan and he knew he wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving Isabel with her. The next few applicants were all equally qualified, but Juan didn’t feel right with any of them and that was worrying him. He didn’t want to leave Isabel with anyone he wasn’t sure would do an amazing job of looking after her. 

The penultimate applicant was a guy called William; he had a degree in early child development and had worked with his last family for five years until they moved abroad. He seemed nice and so far was definitely the best of the applicants, but when he requested to hold Isabel she fussed even more. Juan wasn’t sure if it was because Isabel was in a bad mood or because she didn’t feel comfortable with William.

After he’d gone, Juan perched Isabel on his lap. “Come on baby girl, you need to help me out here. Did you like him?”

Isabel stared at him and then tried to put her fist in her mouth. Juan wasn’t sure what that meant, but the doorbell rang and Fernando let in the last applicant. 

“Come on Isabel, stop scaring away your potential nannies with all this screaming. You know you’re actually a very lovely baby!”

The last woman entered the room, her beige chinos and loose fitting white shirt giving her a very relaxed feel. According to Fernando, her name was Emma and she was 29 years old.

“So, your CV says that you worked as an au pair for three years?” Fernando asked, tapping his ballpoint pen on the clipboard.

Emma tucked a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. “I worked with a family in Spain, I did a degree in Early Childhood Studies and also took Spanish on the side. So the three years in Madrid helped me to hone my language skills and also to look after two wonderful children and see them grow as people. The youngest was 2 when I met her and the oldest was 6. I think, in the end, they taught me as much as I taught them.” Emma stopped suddenly. “Sorry, I’m babbling, but the time was incredibly rewarding.”

Fernando opened his mouth to ask another question, but Juan cut him off. His teammate had taken the lead with the rest of the interviews, while Juan observed each applicant, but this time he had some questions of his own to ask.

“How would you describe your level of Spanish?”

“I’d say, fluent. I’ve been learning since I was 11 and the years in Madrid really were a crash course in the language. I’m sorry if this is overstepping the mark, but you are Spanish, aren’t you?”

Juan nodded.

“¡Magnífico!” Emma clapped, and Isabel tried to copy her, it was adorable. “If I were to look after Isabel, I’d be more than happy to speak to her in Spanish as well as English if that’s something you’d both prefer.”

The two footballers shared a knowing look, it was mere days before that Juan said he was scared that Isabel would grow up and not know any Spanish. 

Fernando asked another few questions that he’d asked every applicant, but the whole while Isabel was making grabby hands towards Emma.

“What is it baby, what do you want?” Juan asked quietly by her ear and followed where her hands were pointing.

Juan was apparently too slow in realising what Isabel wanted because she started to cry. He began picking her up to rest on his shoulder when Emma held her hands out.

“Would you mind if I...?” she motioned towards Isabel.

Juan handed Isabel over, and the baby reached out to stroke the big blue stones on Emma’s necklace, quieting as soon as she touched them.

“She was just fascinated by my necklace.” Emma laughed and stroked Isabel’s hair softly. Though she must have been aware how intently both Fernando and Juan were watching her, scrutinizing her every move, Emma showed no signs of worry.

While she held Isabel, Emma looked between Juan and Fernando. “My agency told me that there were special circumstances for this job, I was just wondering if you could tell me what those are?”

“I’m a footballer, as is Fernando,” Juan said, gesturing to where the older man sat. “And we both travel the country and the continent on a very regular basis, so I’d be away a lot and you’d be able to live here and take care of Isabel while I’m away.”

Emma nodded, but didn’t seem phased by the situation. “That would be fine, I live on the other side of London, but if you hire me, I’d be able to move in within a few days as I rent my flat by the month. And don’t worry; I don’t have a tonne of stuff! The only thing I ask, is to have one afternoon or evening off, every so often. Obviously, working around your schedule.” she chuckled lightly and tickled Isabel’s sides.

Juan smiled widely at her. “Of course, that would be absolutely fine.”

Fernando checked his clipboard and stood up promptly. “I think that’s everything.”

“Thank you for your time,” Emma said after she handed Isabel back and shook the two men’s hands. 

“We’ll get back to you within the next couple of days to let you know our decision.” Juan said and then closed the door behind her. 

“I liked her, Isabel liked her – I think she’s the one.” Juan said, bouncing Isabel on his hip.

“She is very qualified, I think I’ll call her referees and then see what they say. But she was the best by far.”


	6. Six

When it came time for Juan to leave for Madrid with Fernando and Cesar to join up with the national team, Emma and Isabel accompanied them both to the airport. 

“Make sure she’s okay, and call me if there’s anything wrong with her. When I say anything, I mean _anything_.” Juan frowned a little at the thought of leaving.

“I will, don’t worry. Isabel’s going to miss you! Aren’t you little lady?” Emma said, as Isabel made grabby hands towards Juan from her pram.

Juan picked her up and bounced her up and down while whispering in her ear in Spanish.

“Shall we give them a moment?” Fernando said to both the nanny and Cesar, quietly and Emma nodded. The trio walked and stood a few feet away, Cesar informed them that he was going to WH Smith to get some magazines for the flight.

Although they’d seen each regularly since she had been hired, Emma and Fernando had never actually spent any time alone. And any time they had spoken before was always about Isabel. Emma wasn’t sure what the deal with Fernando and Juan was; they acted like a couple that had been together for years, but they weren’t actually an item. It felt odd to her, but she realised it wasn’t her place to interfere in the lives of two people she didn’t know all that well. Even if those two people couldn’t see how madly in love they were with each other.

Despite this, the pair spoke for a few minutes before Juan walked back over with Isabel.

“Fer, we should get going, they’re probably going to call our flight in a minute. Santi and Nacho said they’re already down by our gate.” They waited a second and Cesar returned with a bag that was apparently heaving with magazines and sweets.

He kissed Isabel on the forehead a few more times as he handed her over to Emma and a couple of times after she was in her nanny’s arms. 

“Come on,” Fernando said, resting his hand on Juan’s forearm, leading him away.

“Bye little girl, I love you!” Juan smiled sadly as he picked up his carry on bag. “I’ll Skype with you later!” he called as he walked away.

Emma held Isabel’s arm up by the elbow and waved her arm so she could say bye to her dad. 

 

“Try not to look so glum,” Fernando nudged Juan in the arm as they waited to board their flight. 

“I miss her already,” Juan looked down sadly, trying not to feel sorry for himself but failing desperately. 

The older man wrapped an arm around his friend. “I bet she misses you too. Don’t worry, you’ll be back in no time!” Fernando stopped for a second before adding, “Well, hopefully not too soon because we want to win, but you get what I mean.”

Juan couldn’t help but muster a smile as Fernando tripped over his words trying comfort Juan. 

On the plane, within minutes, Juan had fallen asleep as had Cesar who sat in the row behind them. Fernando smiled as he heard Juan’s soft snores while the plane took off. After the air hostess had offered Fernando tea and coffee, he sat sipping his beverage slowly, reading the digital copy of Haruki Marukami’s _Norwegian Wood_. He’d heard Juan go on about the author in the past and took it upon himself to see what all his fuss was about. One hundred pages in to his first Marukami novel, and Fernando understood Juan’s fascination with the Japanese’s literature. The man had a way with words and demonstrated an incredible ease with describing feelings and it was utterly enthralling to Fernando. The striker was engrossed in Toru Wantanbe’s story when he was pulled back to his reality by a flash.

“What are you doing?” Fernando chastised Santi Cazorla who sat in the row in front of them and was currently sitting on his knees on his seat, leaning over the head rest.

The Arsenal man shrugged. “You two looked adorable, I couldn’t resist.”

Fernando was about to ask what Santi meant, when he looked down and noticed that Juan, still asleep, was resting his head on Fernando’s shoulder. The fact that Juan hadn’t put down the armrest in between them allowed the younger man to nuzzle his nose into the hollow of Fernando’s shoulder.   
When Fernando looked back up, Santi was grinning at him like a Cheshire cat, he shimmied back down into his seat and snickered with Nacho.

“Oh shut up,” Fernando jibed, though the grin on his face didn’t falter. “And send me that picture.”


	7. Seven

The first few days of the concentración were particularly hard for Juan, he missed Isabel more than he knew it was possible to miss another person. When he was training, it was the closest that he got to feeling content, with the ball at his feet he knew exactly what to do. It was just whenever he was left to his own devices that he had trouble.

He was almost certain he was getting on Emma’s nerves texting her every hour to make sure that Isabel was okay, but he couldn’t stop himself. Emma had taken to instant messaging him pictures or videos of Isabel, just to prove that she was, in fact, in one piece. 

It was on the fourth night of the concentración that he finally had free time, the previous nights being taken up with team dinners or press-related activities. It was around 10pm in Brazil, meaning it was closer to 6pm back in London, he’d scheduled a video chat with Emma and Isabel; he was alone because Fernando had been coaxed into playing a game of cards with Sergio, Pepe, Iker, Pique and Cesc. Juan turned on his laptop a few minutes before the clock hit 10, and moments later his laptop began ringing, informing him that Emma was calling him on Face Time. 

When the video window popped up on the screen all he could see was the ceiling of the living room.

“Hello?” he called out, wondering where they were.

“One second,” Emma replied. “I’m just settling Isabel on my lap.”

It wasn’t long before Emma adjusted the laptop on their side and both her and Isabel came into view. “Hello my little angel.” Juan said quietly, trying to refrain from touching the screen where he could see his daughter.

Isabel however didn’t stop herself, and waved her hands forward like she was trying to grab the screen. 

“How has she been?” Juan asked Emma, but didn’t take his eyes off Isabel. 

“She’s been great actually. I took her to the park yesterday, she loved the duckies.” Emma took Isabel’s hand, which had been waving around excitedly. “Didn’t you little lady?”

Isabel began chewing on her fingers. “I’ll send you the pictures when I’ve put her down in a while.” Juan looked at the baby for a second without saying anything, Emma didn’t interrupt, she let him have a semblance of a moment with his daughter.

“How has everything been going over in Brazil?”

“It’s been great, we beat Uruguay yesterday night. I didn’t play, but the team played really well.” Emma detected a hint of sadness in her boss’ voice. “Did you think you should have played?”

Juan scratched his beard, he was about to give his press-ready answer of ‘I don’t mind if I’m not playing, whatever is best for the team is okay with me’, but he realised he didn’t need to be cautious with Emma. “I’m a bit annoyed that I didn’t play, truthfully. I had such a good season, and I thought I’d at least get on as a sub.”

Emma adjusted Isabel on her lap who had started trying to wriggle from her grasp. “Think about it this way, it was only the first match, you still have 4 or 5 left – there’s plenty of time for you to play!” she smiled, hoping she’d said the right thing.

“Well, hopefully. I didn’t get to play until 10 minutes before the end of the final last year, which sucked. But I scored and we won, so I can’t complain!” he chuckled lightly.

Something in the background at Juan’s flat made a loud noise, and Isabel jumped, her eyes going wide as they looked around. Juan’s eyes mimicked his daughter as he wondered what had happened.

“Don’t worry!” Emma said quickly noticing Juan’s startled expression. “I just knocked my book off the sofa by accident.”

At that moment the door to Juan’s hotel room opened, making him jump. Fernando entered sheepishly, and pushed Juan out of the way when he saw who was on the screen.

“MI ANGEL!” Fernando screeched, while Juan hoisted himself back up into a sitting position. “Look at you, more beautiful each and every time I see you.”

It was short, but loud and melodic – Isabel laughed when she saw Fernando on the screen. This time it was Juan’s time to push his compatriot out of the way.

“Did she just laugh?” he nearly shouted.

Emma nodded and tickled Isabel’s sides. 

“Please tell me that’s the first time she’s done that.” His hand whipped out and gripped Fernando’s knee, who sat with his legs crossed on the bed as he waited for Emma to reply.

“It is!”

Juan's mouth fell open. His daughter just laughed. She laughed for the first time, and he’d actually been lucky enough to hear it despite the fact that he was on the other side of the planet. 

“She just laughed for the first time!” he cheered, tackling Fernando softly into a hug. “My baby’s _laughing_ now.”

Juan chastised himself as he felt his eyes welling up with tears. He really was a sucker for Isabel.

“She is totally going to have you wrapped around her little finger when she grows up.” Fernando laughed.

He wiped his eyes and nodded. “She already has me wrapped around her little finger now.” Juan had come to the realisation a long time before that he’d always be a total pushover when it came to his daughter. 

“Okay Juan, I think we’re going to go. It’s almost time for this little lady’s bed time!”

As if to back up Emma’s point, Isabel yawned and stretched, throwing her little arms aloft as she did so.

“Te amo, Isabel. Dormir tranquilo, ángel.” Juan blew a kiss, and waved at the screen, although he was sure Isabel was almost asleep already. 

Emma stroked Isabel’s shock of dark hair before bidding the two footballers goodbye and turning off her laptop. 

“She’s growing so fast,” Fernando commented as he let himself fall backwards, laying down on Juan’s bed.

“I know, I can’t believe it; I hate that I’m missing so much. I mean, I heard her laugh for the first time, but that was sheer luck.” Juan dropped back on the bed until he was lying parallel to Fernando. “Every time I think of all the things she’s going to do that I’m not going to be there for, I just want to quit this and go home and hug her forever.”

Fernando smiled sadly up at the ceiling as his friend spoke, he could only imagine how hard it was being away from your child. And for Juan, it was only the beginning, during the season, only a few nights a week would he be at home with Isabel, the rest of the time he’d be travelling the country, the continent, even the world. 

“I don’t want her to not know who I am, I’m really scared that’s she's going to grow up and we're not going to have a bond because I was never there.” Juan said, quietly this time. His voice was barely above a whisper, and for a second, Fernando wondered if Juan even intended to be heard.

In the silence of the room, Fernando reached out and took Juan’s hand that was on the bed in between them. A moment passed and Fernando was unsure that he’d overstepped the mark, but when Juan squeezed his hand, and smiled over at him, he realised it felt right.


	8. Eight

The Confederations Cup didn’t end the way La Roja wanted it to, Spain were well and truly beaten by Brazil in the final. Juan couldn’t understand why the team had played so poorly. They were the world and European champions – they didn’t lose, it wasn’t something they were supposed to do. 

But still, there they were, walking through the Brazilian team’s guard of honour, going to get their runners up medals. David clapped Juan on the shoulder as he passed and Oscar shot him a sad look, but Juan couldn’t begrudge them anything. He knew the incredible feeling of pride when winning something for your country. Juan also knew that they deserved it, the Brazilian team were coming together nicely and had some incredible players. 

However, Juan couldn’t help but feel sorry for Fernando. He’d managed to win yet another Golden Booth during the tournament and had to walk up to the podium on his own to collect his trophy. When Fernando returned, Juan wrapped an arm around the older man’s shoulder and pulled him into his side. Fernando’s grimace dissipated slightly as he clung to the Asturian tightly. 

After the serial winning that Spain had been doing over the previous years, none of the team took losing lightly. They all retreated to their hotel rooms straight away, everyone shutting themselves away until they were called to leave for the airport a few hours later. 

Juan had been smiling lazily at a zip file of photos that Emma had sent him of Isabel when there was light knock on his door. Before Juan had even had a chance to go and answer the door, Fernando let himself into the room.  
Without a word, the older man fell on to Juan’s bed face down and just lay there without saying anything. Juan figured that Fernando would talk when he was ready, so he just kept on packing his belonging for the flight back to Madrid. 

As Juan was sitting on top of his suitcase, willing the zip to do up, Fernando turned over and began talking. 

“What is it with us and the Confederations Cup?” the striker queried, La Roja had managed to win every other major trophy in the five years since they won Euro 2008, yet the World Cup warm up tournament had eluded them twice. 

“It just wasn’t meant to be,” Juan said, feeling triumphant as his suitcase finally zipped up. 

 

Back in London, Juan was relishing being back with his daughter again. Even though he’d only been gone for a couple of weeks, he felt like he’d missed a whole chapter in her development. He insisted that Emma tell him everything that he hadn’t been there to see.

The nanny giggled at Juan’s sheer enthusiasm for anything that involved Isabel.

“I’m taking Isabel to Sweden next week for a holiday. You’re welcome to come if you’d like – you wouldn’t have to look after her as much. It’d be more like a thank you for taking the job on such short notice and a pre-emptive thank you for the crazy hours you’re going to have to work once the season starts.”

Emma looked thoughtful for a second, before accepting. She’d never been to Sweden before and thought it was incredibly sweet of Juan to offer to take her on holiday.

“Thank you so much, it was nice of you to think of me.”

“Well, you kept my baby in one piece while I was away, and that deserves some recognition!”

Juan really liked Emma, she was brilliant with Isabel, she was quick witted and generally a pleasure to be around. 

Emma took Isabel from Juan’s lap when his phone began to ring, and he jumped up from the sofa looking to find it. 

When Juan answered the phone, a slurring Fernando spoke on the other end of the line. 

“Hey, Juanito!” he practically shouted when Juan had greeted him. 

“Fernando, are you okay?” He asked becoming concerned about his friend. 

“I’m fine hombre, but I might need you to come and pick me up!” The volume of his voice hadn’t lowered and he was still shouting.

“What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Fernando hiccupped before answering. “I’m at this pub in Battersea, but I can’t drive home because I’ve had too much to drink. See I’m being responsible.”

“I’ll come and get you, wait there. Don’t leave, and _don’t drive._ ” Juan stuffed his phone in his pocket and took his jacket off the back of a chair. 

“I’m just going to pick up Fernando. He got drunk and can’t drive.”

Emma nodded and placed Isabel down on her play mat. “How long will you be? I was going to feed Isabel and then make dinner for myself.”

“I won’t be long, he’s only about 15 minutes away. I’m going to walk and then drive his car back here.” Juan dropped a kiss to Isabel’s hair. “See you in a minute!” He called and closed the door behind him.

 

When he reached the side road that Fernando had informed him he was parked on, Juan knocked on the car window as he could see Fernando snoozing in the passenger seat. The older man startled visibly before smiling goofily at Juan and unlocked the doors to his Audi. 

“What a surprise it’s little Juan Mata!” Fernando said, and Juan could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Juan was quite surprised because he never knew Fernando to be one to go out and get drunk, especially alone. He’d only ever seen the striker drunk in the wake of winning trophies (the two Euros, the World Cup and the Champions League, to be exact).

Fernando had fallen asleep again in the few seconds Juan had been in the car, so he fished the keys out of Fernando’s jacket pocket and drove back to his flat. 

“Come on, Fer.” Juan whispered, pulling the still half-asleep man out of the car. Fernando had a good few pounds on Juan so when Fernando leant all his weight him, the younger man stumbled before steadying himself and walking Fernando back up to his flat.

Emma giggled lightly when she saw Fernando drooling on Juan’s shoulder as they entered the apartment. Though she got up to help Juan open the door to the spare room and closed it behind them. 

“Time for bed.” Juan muttered and Fernando gave him a weak thumbs up in return before falling on to the bed face first and not moving. He groaned in protest when Juan rolled him over.

“We need to get your clothes off so you can go to bed.” Juan began unbuckling Fernando’s belt when the older man pulled Juan down on top of him so they were laying chest to chest.

“At least buy me dinner first.” Fernando chuckled heartily at his own joke. 

Juan tried to move, but Fernando pulled him back.

“Fer- I need to get up. Please let me-“

Fernando interrupted him by mumbling, “Oh what the hell.” And he pulled the younger man towards him and pressed their lips together.

Almost involuntarily, Juan’s mouth opened and Fernando deepened the kiss. Juan brought his hands up to run through Fernando’s hair when he remembered all too suddenly that Fernando was drunk - Fernando didn't want this, he was just intoxicated. Juan pushed himself up off the bed.

“Get undressed and get some sleep, Fer. I’ll see you in the morning.” Juan ordered Fernando before leaving the room wondering what the hell had just happened.


	9. Nine

It was a week later, and Juan’s flight to Stockholm was mere hours away. He still hadn’t spoken to Fernando about the kiss, and Fernando hadn’t brought it up either, so Juan thought it best to regard it as a drunken mistake. Although he was caught off guard when he suddenly thought that he didn’t actually want it to be a one-time thing. 

Since The Kiss (in Juan’s mind the incident required capitalisation), Juan had asked Fernando if he wanted to go to Stockholm with him and Isabel, but the older man had declined. Juan didn’t have time to feel rejected before Fernando informed him that his mother and father were coming over to spend the week with him. With a giggle Juan told Fernando to enjoy himself, the striker’s parents were infamous for being a handful; often treating Fernando as if he was still 15 and not a grown man with a successful career who was nearing 30. 

However, much to Juan’s delight, Paula had accepted his offer to go on holiday. For a long time his sister’s attendance had been up in the air because she wasn’t sure if she’d be finished work on time. Juan booked a place for her anyway, and only two days before their departure had Paula been able to confirm that she’d be able to go. Seeing as she worked in different parts of the continent, Juan often found himself missing his sister, so he was overjoyed that she’d be joining them. 

“Are you all packed and ready to go? Paula is going to meet us as the airport,” Juan called to Emma who emerged from her bedroom into the lounge.

She nodded and pointed to the suitcase she dragged behind her. “Let me take her,” the nanny gestured towards Isabel who was fussing in Juan’s arms while he tried to pack a nappy bag for her. “I’m really excited to meet your sister, she seems lovely from the way you talk about her.”

“Well, I moved away from home when I was 15, and we were close before I left. But then I never saw her for more than a week or so at a time when until I moved to London, by then I was 23, and we lived together for 6 months or so. We became closer than ever.”

 

“It’s so weird to see you with a baby, it still hasn’t sunk in yet!” Paula smiled fondly as she watched her younger brother bottle-feed his daughter.

They four had arrived in Stockholm and were at a restaurant that was down the road from their hotel. Isabel had been a little fussy on the flight, but had slept for the majority of the journey, much to Juan’s relief. He didn’t want to be _that_ parent with the screaming baby who was the bane of every other passenger’s flight.

“For what it’s worth, he’s a natural,” Emma said as Isabel took one of Juan’s finger and attempted to put it in her mouth. 

“He’s my baby brother and now he has a baby – I can’t believe it!” Paula said offering her hand to Isabel who promptly tried to put her aunt’s finger in her mouth as well.

The three adults laughed as the warm summer air enveloped them all. Isabel sat in the high chair, swinging her legs backwards and forwards. Juan realised the holiday was the perfect opportunity for Isabel to wear all the dresses he had been buying her on the Internet. The one she had on was white with a pattern of pale blue and purple flowers; she looked adorable, although Juan had packed her another dress, which was orange with a yellow bunny on the skirt. It was awesome. He secretly hoped she’d make a mess of the first dress so he could change her into the second one. Juan cursed the fact that there was so many adorable dresses for baby girls and that he was unable to stop himself from buying them.

 

Since reading about it on the internet, Juan had been excited to go to Fjärilshuset, a fantastic butterfly house where you can walk through an artificial tropical rainforest while exotic butterflies fly freely around. He thought Isabel might enjoy the experience, seeing as she was nearing 6 months old and he’d read that it was around that age that babies began distinguishing between colours. 

As soon as they entered Isabel babbled excitedly, craning her neck to look up at everything and Juan realised she was too far down. Luckily, he’d bought his baby carrier, so he strapped Isabel in so she could see everything easier. 

Emma and Paula had wandered off in another direction, leaving Juan to spend some time alone with his daughter.

“How are you finding working for Juan?” Paula asked as the pair walked through the butterfly house.

The nanny stopped for a second to gaze at a black and red butterfly that flitted past her before answering. “It’s great, Isabel’s such a sweetheart. Juan works crazy hours, it’s quite unpredictable though.”

“Yeah, for the first few weeks we lived together I basically felt like I was living alone, his training, travelling and playing schedule is ridiculous.” Paula spoke, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and twisting it before making a bun on the crown of her head.

The two walked along in silence for a few seconds, when Emma thought about asking Paula something that had been on her mind for a while. Though she didn’t want to seem like she was being nosy or overstepping the mark. Against her better judgement, she still asked Paula what was in her mind.

“Is there anything going on with Juan and Fernando?” Emma averted her gaze in case Paula was annoyed that she’d asked such a personal question. Instead, she was surprised when the older woman began laughing.

“They’re still completely oblivious, I’m guessing?” Paula asked.

Emma nodded, and couldn’t stop herself from chuckling too.

 

As they neared the end of the house, Juan met back up with the two women, all of them agreeing that the Butterfly house was a good choice of activity. Isabel had fallen asleep on Juan’s chest while they’d been walking around, so he carefully strapped her back into her pushchair.

“Let me take a picture,” he grinned at his sleeping daughter.

“What are you doing?” Paula asked as she hip bumped Juan out of the way to begin pushing Isabel.

“Just sending the picture to Fernando.” 

Paula and Emma shared a knowing look while Juan was distracted by his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a filler chapter, sorry.


	10. Ten

“What is it you want, Isabel?” Juan asked, as his daughter started fussing in his arms. Isabel looked at him with wide eyes before dissolving into tears. For the two days since they’d been back from Sweden, Isabel had been a handful; not going down to sleep, refusing to eat and crying a lot more than usual.

After fretting and calling his mother who assured him it was normal for even the most calm babies to have their off days, he was still worried about her. 

Juan had given Emma the next three days off, and she’d taken the opportunity to go and see her parents who lived in Surrey while Paula had gone back to Spain to see their family, so it was just Juan and Isabel in the flat. 

In the background, the radio was on, playing out whatever was in the charts and Juan cradled Isabel close to his chest and danced around the apartment with her, usually, she’d calm down right away; however, this time Isabel rested her cheek on Juan’s shoulder and sniffed, her eyes still damp with tears.

The sound of keys being put into his front door made Juan stop and turn around to face the source of the noise. 

A second later, Fernando walked through the door, smiling as he crossed the threshold and caught sight of Isabel, who had also turned to look at the noise. Upon seeing the new person in the room Isabel, raised her arms and flung them in Fernando’s direction and making grabby hands towards him.

“How is mi pequeña ángel?” Fernando asked, lifting her from Juan’s arms and holding her aloft, swooping her through the air. 

Slumping down on to the sofa, Juan sighed. “She’s being a real handful, actually.”

Fernando still hadn’t taken his eyes off Isabel. “That’s not like you little lady, what’s up?”

Although at that moment, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything that was wrong with Isabel, her eyes were glistening and her smile was wide as she gazed adoringly at Fernando. Juan watched his best friend interact with his daughter and at that moment, he felt an ache deep in his stomach, he wanted someone to share this with, someone to share Isabel with – someone to share himself with. 

The older man sat down on the sofa too and rested Isabel in his lap, the baby’s eyelids began to flutter and she promptly fell asleep in Fernando’s arms.

“You’re a miracle worker,” Juan smiled and stroked Isabel’s cheek. 

“Nah,” Fernando shook his head, “you just have a great baby.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes as the radio carried on softly playing music. In her sleep, Isabel reached up to rub her own nose, making both of the men look down at her.

“I think I’ll go and put her down now,” Fernando told his friend as he got up and took Isabel to the nursery.

London had been unusually hot during the summer months, so Juan had been taking advantage and spending as much time outside as he could. He left the living room while Fernando was gone and stood on his balcony overlooking the River Thames. The sky was awash with orange and pink as the sun set over the city, Juan took out his phone and uploaded a picture to Instagram. 

He felt a presence next to him and turned to see Fernando leaning forward against the railing too. Again, they stood in silence for a few minutes, the time void of talking not awkward between the pair. 

“Did you have a good time in Stockholm?” Fernando asked, nudging Juan’s crossed arms, which also rested on the balcony’s railings.

Juan tried to formulate an answer rather than concentrating on how his and Fernando’s arms were pressed against each other from shoulder to elbow. 

“Yeah,” he began, taking a deep breath, wondering when he became such a mess. “It was great, Isabel really enjoyed herself. It was also lovely seeing Paula and getting to know Emma better.”

“I’m glad you had a good time,” Fernando said sincerely. “I missed you while you were gone.” Fernando said it so quietly it hit Juan like a tonne of bricks.

But as he is completely inept, Juan stood looking out over the city, not daring to make eye contact with Fernando, opening and closing his mouth like a fish trying to think of the perfect thing to say. 

It seemed he missed his opportunity, when Fernando suddenly stood upright. “How about we order some take away?”

When Juan nodded gormlessly, Fernando clapped and scampered off inside, in search of his phone. He came back out moments later; already mid-flow in a conversation that Juan hadn’t heard the beginning off.

“…for a second I was thinking Mexican, but now I’m not so sure I want it. Cesar told me about this great Indian place that isn’t too far away from here that he swears is the best. Shall we try it?”

“Yeah, why not?” Juan shrugged and sat down on one of the deck chairs on the balcony. 

“Okay, so what do you want?” Fernando asked, bending down to show Juan the screen of his phone. Until a second later, Fernando seemed to decide he no longer wanted to stand and sat on the armrest of Juan’s chair, lifting the younger man’s arm so he could sit down, before relocating Juan’s arm on his lap. 

“I’m going to get Lamb Rogan Josh, I think. And Peshwari Naan. What about you?”

Juan let his eyes scan the menu for a second, before blurting out, “I’ll have a King Prawn Biryani, and some regular Naan, please.” 

Fernando tapped away on his phone for a few more moments, and telling Juan the food should be there in 30-45 minutes. 

They sat in a comfortable silence until Juan remembered that he brought a present for Fernando back from Sweden. “It’s from Isabel. She picked it.”

Really, they were in a music shop, and Juan saw it and thought Fernando would love it, so he bought it. If he claimed it was from Isabel, there was no way that Fernando could refuse it.

“You brought this for me?” It was a framed vintage flyer for the Nirvana show at Sjöhistoriska Museet in 1992. 

“Turn it over,” Juan instructed, on the other side on the back it was signed by Kurt Cobain and Dave Grohl.   
Fernando didn’t say anything but his mouth fell open, it seemed he was stunned into silence. He kept looking from the flyer, up to Juan and back again.

“Thank you,” Fernando said, running a finger along the glass, inspecting every detail to commit it to memory.

A smile broke out on Juan’s face. “Don’t thank me, Isabel knew you’d love it.”

With a playful glare, Fernando willed Juan to admit that he chose it for Fernando. 

“I’m glad you like it. I mean, Isabel will be thrilled to hear it.” Juan grinned.

Without uttering another word, feeling his gratification couldn’t be adequately expressed through mere words, Fernando got out of his seat and hugged Juan. Cupping the younger man’s neck to pull him closer, almost at a whisper Fernando said, “This means a lot to me, thank you so much.”

Juan wouldn’t be able to tell you how long they hugged for, but when the doorbell rang and Fernando wandered off to answer it, Juan missed the contact.


	11. Eleven

For the second leg of the club’s pre-season tour, the team was off to America to compete in the International Champions Cup. For Juan, the rest of the Spaniards, the Brazilians and the Nigerians in the squad, this would be the start of their pre season training, whereas the rest of the team had already been to Asia to play matches and regain their fitness. 

The tournament meant that Chelsea could come up against Inter Milan, LA Galaxy, AC Milan, and even Juan’s former club, Real Madrid, among others. Although, there was one other English team taking part, Everton were also in the tournament. _I don’t know what the fuck Everton are doing there, what are they champions of? Being shit?_ Ashley Cole had jested when they were informed of their potential opponents. 

It was an exciting time to be a Chelsea player, seeing as Jose Mourinho was back at the helm, managing the club for the second time. Immediately, Juan understood the appreciation the older players had for the Portuguese man. He stood at the training ground, with the players stood around him in a semi circle, and he radiated confidence, understanding and intelligence. It wasn’t only how he spoke knowledgeably about football, but how he strolled from group to group of players, flicking between English, Spanish and Portuguese fitting in with each group as seamlessly as the next. 

What amazed Juan the most is how Jose paid attention to each individual player. He mentioned a moment during the Euro 2012 final where Juan and Fernando had linked up nicely and praised them for their teamwork – despite the fact that it was over a year before he became Chelsea manager again. During the session, there was time for laughing and joking, but at no point were any of the players unsure of exactly who was in charge. 

Jose also knew about everyone’s personal situation and showed interest in the player’s lives beyond football, a number of times he asked for Eden’s kids, wanted to know how Yannis was getting on at play school, how Leo was growing and developing, his incredibly astute nature made everyone feel they were important in his eyes. 

They had just left for America and Juan was sitting on the team plane alone, as Fernando had vacated his seat to go and talk to Branislav. Juan gazed at the lock screen of his phone, which was a picture of him with Isabel resting on his chest only a few days after he’d found out about her. He adored the picture because of how tiny Isabel was, she’d grown so much in the few months that he’d had her and he already was nostalgic of her first few weeks.  


He felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him out of his trance. “It never gets easier,” Jose said sagely in perfect Spanish before taking a seat the young Spaniard. Juan’s face must have looked confused because the manager elaborated. “It never gets easier leaving them to travel around the world.” Feeling his face drop, Juan suddenly missed Isabel a little more. 

“But, over time, you learn to deal with it. My kids are teenagers, and even now when I leave them, I count down the seconds until I can see them again. The only thing you can do when you’re away from them is concentrate on the job at hand, do the best you can, be the best you can be. Make things happen, make her proud.”

Juan sat in dumbfounded silence for a few seconds before Jose clapped him on the shoulder and rose from his seat, walking across the aisle and cracking a joke in Portuguese with Oscar and Ramires. 

With a shout across the aisle back to Branislav, Fernando dropped into the seat that had just been vacated by their manager. It was getting later and through the plane’s tiny windows, you could see the sun disappearing from the sky and the darkness seeping in. 

It didn’t take long before most of the team were settling down for the rest of the journey – expect for Michael Essien and Romelu Lukaku, who were right at the back of the plane trying to take a picture of Ryan sleeping. The whole squad was well aware of the #TeamNoSleep antics that had begun in Asia, and Juan had been got quite quickly after returning when he took a nap on the coach to the airport earlier that very same day and Romelu showed him the picture just before they boarded the plane. Juan chuckled but hoped it wasn’t one that the young Belgian decided to upload to Instagram. 

The plane’s lights had been dimmed and the captain had informed them that soon they’d all be turned off to allow passengers to sleep. Fernando settled, slouching down in his seat and tipping his head to the side. Mere seconds later, Juan realised that Fernando had already fallen asleep, although he tried to resist, Juan couldn’t help but pet Fernando’s hair gently. The older man relaxed under Juan’s touch, he shifted in his slumber and rested his head on Juan’s shoulder, and his hand emerged sleepily from under the blanket and rested on Juan’s thigh.

 

The training in America was rigorous, for Juan especially, seeing as he’d never had such a sustained break from football (four whole weeks) since his professional career began. Although beforehand all he longed to do was play football, since Isabel, football had slipped to second in the pecking order, but he still missed it incredibly during the off-season. He yearned to play even more so knowing that Chelsea had already played in Asia and he’d missed out. 

Though unluckily for Juan, after the first match, he picked up an injury. He felt a tightness in his thigh as he was running and informed Eva straight after the game. Following a couple of quick scans and tests, she informed him that he’d strained his hamstring. And the only form of treatment for muscle strain is rest, so she told him he would probably end up sitting out the rest of the competition in America. The only thing she said he could do was swim (at least for the following week until the pain subsided), as it wouldn’t put any additional strain on the muscle – and he was only allowed to do that for 20 minutes a day. 

It was a peculiar state for Juan to be in, he’d never had such an injury as a professional player – he’d been lucky in that sense. He was upset at the timing of the injury, just as he felt himself getting back up to full fitness, his body was against him. Along with that, whenever you get a new manager, you want to do all you can to impress them, and the easiest place to do that is on the pitch, and seeing as he wasn’t even going to be allowed to train, Juan’s pessimistic side kicked in and he feared being left out of Mourinho’s plans for the upcoming season.

The rest of the players were sympathetic at dinner when he informed them that he wouldn’t be able to play anymore of the pre season matches. After the meal, everyone dispersed going up to his or her separate rooms, but Fernando followed Juan up into his room and lounged on his bed. 

“Can we Face Time Isabel?” Fernando asked, bouncing up and down on the bed impatiently. What the older man hadn’t revealed was that he missed Isabel more than he imagined, he missed her little face lighting up whenever he entered the room; he missed Isabel’s melodic little giggle, and most of all he missed experiencing Juan in his element as he looked after his daughter. 

Luckily with the time difference it was the afternoon back in London, so it was perfect, as Isabel would have just woken from her nap.

“How has my little angel been?” Fernando asked before Juan could even talk to Emma. It was sweet how much he cared for Isabel.

“She’s been great,” Emma said as Isabel paid no attention whatsoever to the screen on which her daddy was. “We’ve started to create a little daily routine so that she has a regular feeding time, nap time and bed time. Just so we can get her on a schedule,” the nanny turned her attention from Juan on the screen to the baby on her lap. “And you’ve been a very good girl, haven’t you, Isabel?”

Isabel babbled excitedly and waved her arms and kicked her legs. She finally showed an interest in the screen and began to lean forward. “That’s Papa,” Emma said, pointing to what Juan assumed was him on the screen. “And that’s Tio Nando,” she moved her hand over to the left to point to the striker, Fernando offered a little wave when he heard his name and Isabel’s face looked adorably confused. 

A little while later, Emma and Isabel bid goodbye and it was just the two footballers left alone in the room. Fernando convinced Juan to go to the local casino, a few of the other players were going into the local town seeing as it was their free night, and Juan needed a night out after the crappy news he’d received that day.

They met up with Cesar, David, Oscar and Ramires before calling a cab and venturing out. In the taxi the banter was flying left, right and centre in Portuguese, Spanish and English, the insouciant mood within the group of friends took Juan’s mind off his injury and he was focused on having a good time.

As soon as they got to the casino, their first stop was the bar and David got in shots of tequila for everyone _'to loosen us up'_ he’d insisted when Juan had shown signs of resistance. With a ‘what the heck’ attitude, Juan downed the shot and the next two that David bought for everyone. And seeing as Juan hadn’t had much alcohol since the night Chelsea won the Europa League (even then he'd only had two beers and a glass of champagne), it went to his head pretty quickly and before he knew it he found himself in a karaoke bar sloppily singing 'Hips Don’t Lie' by Shakira with accompanying dance moves. 

When the song ended, he didn’t want to leave the stage, despite the fact that the next group of people were already making their way to the tiny elevated platform in the corner of the room. He felt someone untangling his limbs from the microphone stand and leading him out of the spotlight and into the darkness of the rest of the club.

“I think it’s time you went to bed, hombre.” A familiar voice said, helping Juan out onto the street and hailing a cab back to the hotel.

 

The bright lights of the hotel lobby caused Juan to grimace and squint all the way up to his room. Fernando helped him out of his clothes and once Juan was just down to his boxers, the older man helped him into bed.

Fernando pulled the covers up to Juan’s shoulder and dropped a kiss to Juan’s hairline. Just as he was about to move away and leave for his own room, Fernando felt a tug on his arm. Despite being pretty drunk and a lot smaller than him, Juan had more upper body strength than Fernando had previously realised, as with one swift tug, Fernando fell on to the bed, rolling over Juan and to the empty side of the bed. 

“Night night, Nando,” Juan said, resting his cheek on Fernando’s chest, nuzzling into the soft fabric of Fernando’s plaid shirt, and with an arm lain across the older man’s stomach, practically moulding himself around the striker.

Inside his head, Fernando contemplated the pros and cons of getting up and returning to his own hotel room, but after a while he gave in and let himself fall into a deep slumber, his hand coming up to rest on the base of Juan’s neck, the fine hairs at Juan’s nape tickling his fingers lightly.


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long.

“Mi angel,” Juan said, opening his arms and scooping up Isabel, holding her close to his chest, his nose resting on the wisps of chocolate brown hair on her head. 

Emma began recounting their couple of weeks together for Juan, the nanny flicked backwards and forwards between Spanish and English as she spoke. Juan watched her fold up some of Isabel’s freshly washed clothes and he wasn’t sure if Emma noticed she was aware that she was speaking both languages. Her Spanish level was on a par with Juan’s English - if not a little better - she rarely made any grammatical mistakes, and if she did, she asked Juan for the correct way of phrasing something if she wasn’t able to correct herself. 

It was strangely comforting to know that Isabel was developing in a bilingual household, it was important to Juan to know that Isabel would know not only the language of her heritage, but also English. 

“How is your injury?” Emma questioned, tucking her hair behind her ears.

Juan sat down on the sofa with Isabel, pulling up her tiny socks that were slipping off her feet. “It’s okay, I didn’t play much in America, but when we go back to training in a couple of days, I’m going to start light exercises to help me back up to full fitness.” 

The nanny nodded her head, and then turned quickly to her boss. “I completely forgot to tell you, Paula called yesterday and said she might come and stay over for a little bit while she’s in London.”

“Why didn’t she call me?” Juan wasn’t sure why his sister hadn’t told him directly instead of through his baby’s nanny.

“We were talking anyway, and she told me to let you know.” 

“You guys were ‘talking anyway’?” he questioned; Emma had said it so nonchalantly, he wasn’t aware that they ever spoke.

A smile made it’s way on to Emma’s face. “Your sister is awesome, we’ve been talking – texting and calling each other – since we all went to Sweden.”

It was evident just how much the pair had been communicating when Paula arrived the day after. The two women spoke like old friends, finishing each other’s sentences and already having inside jokes that Juan didn’t get. 

Although Isabel relished having her auntie around, as Paula tended to spoil her niece. In fact, Juan suspected that his sister doted on Isabel more than he did – which was an achievement in itself because Juan rarely stopped himself for buying things for his daughter.

Seeing as the sun was out, and Juan had already been to training, Paula suggested that they take Isabel to the park. 

When the siblings left the flat, their conversation revolved around their family back in Asturias that Paula had just returned from visiting. The glow on her skin and the shine in her hair was evidence of he trip to Spain.

“It was horrible,” Paula said, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. “And it’s all your fault.” She stated simply, laying the picnic blanket down on the lush green grass.

“My fault?” Juan questioned as he placed Isabel down on the blanket and sat next to her.

“Yeah, it’s your fault, Juan.” Paula repeated. “Since word spread that you were a dad to this beautiful baby, every other time any of our aunties spoke to me, they said, ‘so, when are you going to get pregnant?’” Paula rolled her eyes as she lay down on the blanket, looking up at the flawless blue sky; there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

Juan laughed but was cut short when Paula threw a glare his way.

“I’m sorry.” He said with a smile, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose. “I’m sorry that Isabel is such a hit.” Paula nudged her brother in the thigh.

“It really was awful, no one was interested in my job, and how well it’s going – it was all about that.” Isabel was trying to push herself into a standing position by resting her hands on Juan’s calves.

“You know it’s their weird way of caring about you. They want to know that you’re happy and loved.” Juan took Isabel’s hands and she managed to stand up, leaning most of her weight on her dad.

“Good girl!” Paula awed – she’d never seen Isabel stand before. “But y’know, I don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy – I just wish they’d realise that.”

“I know you don’t need anyone. You’re a great woman, and I love you.” Juan said, dropping a kiss on to his older sister’s forehead.

Paula smiled softly, as Isabel fell softly on to the blanket. 

Juan lay down on the blanket too, with Isabel lying in between him and Paula; Juan took a picture of the three of them. Juan couldn’t keep track of the amount of pictures he took of Isabel; she had the uncanny knack of putting on her biggest grin whenever a camera was pointed at her. There wasn’t a single picture of Isabel looking sad or unhappy. 

He still hadn’t put any pictures of Isabel in the public sphere, there weren’t any on his social network accounts, but sometimes he wants to. Sometimes he wants to share the best thing in his life with his fans, but then he remembers how tiny Isabel is and he doesn’t want to put her out there like that.

 

Training to get back to full fitness is something that Juan isn’t a fan of; being inside doing gym work when he can see his teammates outside training for the next match. It wasn’t something he’d ever experience before, he always felt for his teammates who had been injured for long periods of time, but at that moment he found it hard to understand how they kept themselves so motivated. All he longed for was to be outside with the ball at his feet, and he’d been injured for less than a fortnight.

The season began with a comfortable home win against newly promoted Hull City, and although he wasn’t in the squad, Juan relished being back at Stamford Bridge on a match day. The fans were amazing, the reception they gave Mourinho before the match began was incredible, to them it was the return of a legend, a king, a god. 

The way in which John, Petr and especially Frank spoke about the manager made Juan itch with excitement to work under him and the first few training sessions he’d taken part in were brilliant. They worked with intensity unlike before and it was easy to see why Jose was hailed as one of the best in the world.

Juan worked his way back to full fitness in a few weeks, but did not immediately find his name on the team sheet for every match. It was unusual for him, during his time at Chelsea he’d played pretty much every time he was available. 

“I don’t see it as a problem, I see it more as a challenge,” Juan told a fan who had asked him about not playing. “I want to help the team to win, and if that means someone else is playing in my position for a match, then so be it.” And with a selfie and a signed shirt, he parted ways with the fan and made his way home.


	13. Thirteen

“Good luck Fernando,” Juan said walking down the Stamford Bridge tunnel. However, instead of lining up behind his compatriot and the rest of the team, Juan shuffled past them all and went to sit on the bench. It was unusual for Juan to be left out of such an important match, during his time at Chelsea Juan thought he thrived under the pressure of big games against big opposition. But there he was, on the bench for the game versus Manchester City.

The Chelsea team looked bright from the start, their passes were slick and mostly accurate, the boys really put up a fight against a very strong, well-oiled Man City team. At the half an hour mark, Fernando made a good run into the City box and to the by line, he cut the ball across the face of the goal where André Schürrle ran on to it, slottin the ball calmly into the back of the net. 

Fernando was working so hard, closing down the City defenders, dropping deep to help the midfield and looking dangerous in front the of goal. Unfortunately just after half time, City’s lethal striker Sergio Aguero managed to draw Manchester City level with a brilliant strike that sailed past Cech.

The rest of the game was an even match; the whole team had run themselves ragged. It seemed that both teams were happy to settle for a point each, but not Fernando. He capitalised on a mistake between City’s defender and goalkeeper and struck the ball into the back of the net. It was the 90th minute. Fernando won the match. Chelsea got all three points.

Juan was jumping up and down next to Cesar and David all three of them cheering for their friend and his dramatic winner.

When the final whistle blew, the cheers from the Chelsea fans were deafening. Fernando soaked up their noise, applauding the fans and their support before making his way down the tunnel and into the changing room with an elated grin plastered on his face. 

“Juanito!” He bellowed, walking over to his teammate and wrapping him in a hug.

“Great goal, man. You really deserved it.” Juan smiled, getting his stuff together.

“You want to hang out tonight?” Fernando asked, stripping off his sweaty shirt before he went to shower.

Pointedly not looking at Fernando’s abs, Juan busied himself in his locker. “I gave Emma the evening off, so I’m looking after Isabel.”

“No problem, we can hang out at yours. You’ve got beer, right?”

Juan nodded. “Only a couple though, I don’t really drink so much anymore.”

“Okay, let me shower quickly and then we can leave together?” 

He didn’t give Juan a chance to reply before he pulled off his shorts and underwear, grabbed his towel and went off to shower.

 

Juan’s house was quiet, seeing as the training session following the Man City match started at 3pm the following day, he gave Emma the whole night off.

As soon as they stepped into the flat, Fernando went to Isabel, hugging her and bouncing her up and down on his chest as they walked around the apartment.

“She loves him.” Emma laughed as she shrugged on her jacket and put her phone into her handbag. Isabel looked at up at Fernando with wide eyes and an even wider smile. She had taken to Fernando like a duck to water and after nearly 8 months that showed no signs of changing, at all. It never failed to warm Juan’s heart when he watched them together.

Emma gave Juan a quick hug before taking off for the night. The egg timer rung in the kitchen, causing Juan to look away from his friend and his daughter.

“Time for dinner Isabel!” Juan chimed in a singsong voice as he took the food out of the microwave.

When Juan had decided to start weaning Isabel off of formula, Emma had taught Juan an impressive way to portion and store food for Isabel in advance. He cooked food for her (in this case chicken, carrots and peas), blended them to a paste, decanted it into ice cube trays and then froze it. And then whenever he need food for Isabel, he’d take a cube or two of the frozen food, heat it up and give it to Isabel. There was a day just before the International break when Juan spent the whole day cooking, blending and freezing food for Isabel.

Fernando placed Isabel in her high chair and pushed it up against the table. Juan began to feed her, she gurgled happily when she realised what it was, and this dinner seemed to be among her favourites.

Across the table, Fernando watched intently as Juan fed Isabel.

“Do you want to feed her?” Juan asked, holding out the bowl and spoon to his friend.

Fernando’s eyes widened at the suggestion but he tentatively held his hands out and took them from Juan.

Isabel grinned and turned immediately to Fernando, she let her mouth fall open and waited for Fernando to place some food in front of her mouth. And when he did so, she gobbled it all up and waited for the next spoonful.

“Good girl,” Juan cooed and stroked her mahogany hair.

An hour or so after she’d eaten, Juan changed Isabel’s nappy and then put her down for the night.

 

Back in the living room Fernando was flicking through the Sky channels and stopped on Chelsea TV.

“You have Chelsea TV?” Fernando asked almost incredulously.

“Of course I do, all I had to do was ask the club and the same day they’d activated it for me – I don’t even think I pay for it. Plus, it’s great watching all the old matches and seeing all the different things they have on there.”

“Do you work for Chelsea TV?” Fernando breathed out a laugh at Juan’s passionate words about the club’s television channel. 

“Shut up,” Juan dropped onto the sofa next to Fernando and punched him not so softly in the arm.

“No you shut up.” Fernando pushed him back. They jostled a little on the sofa until they were staring into each other’s eyes.

Fernando had never noticed just how deep a blue Juan’s eyes were. 

They continued to look at each other, each without saying a word until Juan broke the silence with a quiet laugh.

“This is kinda clichéd, isn’t it?” He gestured to how they were positioned, gazing into each other’s eyes and Fernando couldn’t help but laugh too. 

Fernando checked his watch and sat up straighter and said, the disappointment evident in his voice, “I completely forgot, I promised to Skype Israel tonight.”

“That’s okay, I’ll see you at training tomorrow, yeah?” Juan smiled, and with a pat on the shoulder, Fernando left for his own apartment.

As he closed the door, Juan berated himself for not seizing his opportunity. He didn’t want to wait too long to take his chance, only to find out that he’d missed it completely.


	14. Fourteen

“Matinha!” David shouted, elongating the last vowel, as he ran down the path at Cobham that led to the training pitch. The Brazilian didn’t even stop, he just ran, ruffling Juan’s hair as he barrelled past.

With a chuckle, Juan put on his gloves and pulled his snood up over his mouth, the morning was cold, causing his breath to create a cloud in front of him every time he breathed out. The beginning of the session was fast paced, the squad split in to groups to play keep ball like they did nearly every session. The nearly freezing temperatures caused everyone to cover up as much as they could – aside from Cesar and JT, who were brave enough to keep wearing shorts despite the practically Arctic temperatures.

 

After training, Fernando, Cesar and Juan had been recruited to take part in a live video chat with Chelsea TV’s Gigi Salmon to celebrate the club reaching 20 million fans on Facebook.

The chat was a lot of fun, with fans from around the world sending in their questions for the three of them. Juan always liked doing stuff for Chelsea TV; Gigi was lovely (as were the other presenters) - so professional and brilliant at her job. 

They were discussing what they’d get one another for Christmas, and Juan had suggested buying Cesar a cookery book, to which Cesar gasped and accused Juan of not being able to cook. Which was actually true, but Juan never claimed he could cook – he ate, that was what Juan did best!

“What about Fernando, can he cook?” Gigi asked.

Fernando nodded. “I can cook.”

Juan was surprised. “You can cook?” He’d never cooked for Juan before, so he assumed that Fernando was lacking the relevant skills, which is why he never offered. 

“He never comes home with me,” Fernando shrugged playfully, as if it was Juan’s fault that he’d never cooked for Juan before.

“So Fernando needs a cookbook too?” Gigi asked.

“No,” Juan said, his mind going to the pristinely wrapped gift for Fernando that was sitting in the back of his wardrobe at home; the gift that he’d been incredible lucky to find. “I’ll tell you later.” Juan added, afraid that if he went on, he’d reveal exactly what he’d brought for Fernando live on the broadcast.

 

Juan, for the first time since he moved away from home at 15, was not spending Christmas day with his parents. They weren’t able to fly over from Spain as Juan’s father had undergone minor hip surgery in the week leading up to Christmas and had been advised not to fly for at least three or four weeks. Although he was upset about not being able to see them, Juan completely understood, his father’s health was more important than anything else.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come and see you?” His mamá had asked in all seriousness on the phone.

“Sí, mamá. I’ll be fine,” Juan petted Isabel’s hair as she played by his feet. “Besides, papá just came out of hospital, if you come and see me, who will look after him?”

His mother grumbled on the other end of the line, Juan could tell how badly she wanted them to spend Christmas together. Juan smiled softly, putting his phone on speaker and placing it on the coffee table.

“Paula, is going to stay with you over Christmas, so you can get her to set up your Skype and we can video chat. Me, you, Papá, Paula and Isabel.”

“Okay,” his mother receded. “I just don’t want you being lonely at Christmas. It’s not fair.” Juan’s mother often placed much emphasis on family and togetherness. Every single Sunday without fail while Juan was growing up, they all ate dinner together and would sit at the table for at least an hour after they’d finished eating, talking, laughing and joking together. 

“I won’t be lonely,” Juan murmured into Isabel’s hair as he picked her up and held her to his chest. “I have Isabel.” 

“That’s not the same, and you know what I mean.” His mother noted sagely. 

Suddenly Juan actually felt alone.

 

“Thank you boys, that’s it for today. I hope you all have a good Christmas, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening at 7pm before we depart at 7:20.” Jose said to the group, dismissing everyone from their Christmas Eve training session.

“Feliz Natal!” Juan called cheerily to David and Oscar who were leaving the changing room. 

They smiled at his terrible pronunciation, but then replied in perfect Spanish.“Feliz Navidad!” they both reciprocated, almost in unison. The older man had a Chelsea Santa hat on his head, which he’d been wearing since the beginning of December (and resolutely refused to take off), running around the training ground getting everyone excited for the festivities and singing many Christmas carols loudly as he walked down the hallways. You could say David was excited for Christmas. Although that may have been an understatement. 

 

Juan had convinced Fernando to come and spend Christmas Eve with him and Isabel, as Fernando would have been alone too. His parents were taking a cruise around the Caribbean, a present from his brother Israel for their anniversary. 

At first Fernando had resisted when Juan put the offer out there, but it didn’t take much to make him agree. Especially when Juan said that Isabel wanted to see him. “She misses you.” Juan was well aware that he was guilt tripping his best friend, but he didn’t want Fernando to be alone at Christmas. 

“Okay,” Fernando huffed, trying to sound defeated, but the bright smile on his face betrayed him completely.

 

The two had decided to exchange presents on Christmas Eve, Juan wanted Christmas day to be about Isabel, and although he wouldn’t give her most of her presents until el día del Reyes, he wanted the 25th to be special because of how the English celebrated the holiday. He wanted to try and combine both English and Spanish traditions for Isabel’s first Christmas.

Fernando had bought Juan a new watch after the younger man complained that the one he had didn’t go with a lot of his clothes. _‘It has a brown strap. I can’t wear a black suit with a brown watch, can I? It’d be a crime against fashion.’_.

“This is…wow.” Fernando said. Casting his gaze down at the framed picture.

It was a beautiful panoramic shot of the Vicente Calderón that Juan had managed to find and buy online. “Look closer.” Juan instructed and Fernando began to squint at the tiny figures on the pitch.

“What am I looking for?” Fernando questioned.

“You probably won’t be able to see actually. I couldn’t even tell until the guy I bought it from told me about it.”

“Well, I know it’s a fairly old picture. It’s a bit different now.” 

Juan nodded. “It _is_ old. It’s from the 27th May 2001 to be exact.”

Fernando’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “It is?” His voice was quiet, so much so that Juan almost missed that he had said anything at all.

On the 27th May 2001, Fernando made his debut for Atlético Madrid. The picture was from that exact match.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Fernando whispered, placing the frame down very carefully on the coffee table. He hugged Juan tightly, his eyes slightly glassy – the present was so thoughtful, Fernando was taken aback at how personal the present was. Juan had always been good at giving gifts, but the picture was stunning and Fernando was never quiet about how fond he was of his time at Atlético but Juan actually _listened_.

Fernando released Juan from his grip for a second before, for once, listening to his heart over his head and he kissed Juan softly.

Almost like it was instinct, Juan kissed back, parting his lips ever so slightly and wrapping his arms around Fernando’s neck, pulling him closer once more.

A minute or so later, when the pair were properly out of breath, they pulled apart and neither was able to keep the smile off their face.

Juan let himself lean on Fernando, sliding down to rest his head on the older man’s chest. They sat in silence, Fernando wrapped his arm around Juan’s shoulders and absentmindedly brushed his fingertips back and forth on Juan’s upper arm. 

“So,” Juan said without moving, looking out of the window of his apartment over the River Thames. “This is nice.”

Fernando breathed out a laugh. “It really is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse my ignorance of Spanish Christmas traditions, I did a little research for what ended up in the chapter, but for all I know it could still be completely wrong! Even so, I hope it doesn't take anything away from the chapter itself. And thank you all for reading!


	15. Fifteen

Juan woke feeling slightly cold, the air in the room was cooler than he was used to upon waking up. He stretched his legs and shifted – he was on the sofa. For a split second, he wondered why, but then he came into contact with a sturdy chest to his left.

Fernando.

The older man looked down and smiled, his eyelids fluttering delicately as he adjusted to the light that was flooding through the windows of Juan’s flat, after they both neglected to close the curtains the night before.

“Morning,” Fernando said quietly, appearing almost afraid to break the silence.

“Feliz Navidad,” Juan responded, unsure of whether he should mention the night before. But it seemed that Fernando had no such worries as he placed a soft kiss at the corner of Juan’s mouth and then another on to Juan’s shoulder. 

“Feliz Navidad,” Fernando repeats, his gaze not diverting from Juan’s.

They shared another kiss before Juan, reluctantly, rose from the sofa.

“I’m going to go and check on Isabel.”

Fernando smiled at the mere mention of her. “I’ll get the camera - someone needs to document your first Christmas as a Papá, don’t they?” He nudged Juan in the side and got up from the sofa too. 

When Juan came back to the front room a while later, resting a freshly bathed Isabel on his hip, Fernando took about 50 pictures in a 20 second period. She was wearing an adorable red dress that had white embroidered snowflakes littered across the skirt. 

“Morning Isabel,” Fernando said, pressing his lips to the crown of Isabel’s head, she responded by smiling and waving her arms in his direction. 

“Let me take a picture of you two by the tree!” Fernando suggested, nodding his head in the direction of the elaborated decorated tree in the corner.

Juan remembered the conversation they’d had when buying the tree.

_“You want to buy a real tree?” Fernando had remarked._

_“Yeah?” said Juan carefully, he wasn’t sure what was wrong with a real Christmas tree._

_“But if you buy a fake one, it’s better for the environment.”_

_“Since when have you been Mr Green?” Juan giggled, but still moving over to look at the synthetic trees in the shop._

_“Well, at least this way you won’t have to buy a new tree every year.” Fernando further justified his suggestion._

_“What about this one?” Juan pointed to the box that read that it contained an 8-foot tall fir tree, made from 98% sustainable materials._

_“It’s perfect.”_

_“Well, you’re going to have to help me carry it, because it’s about two times taller than I am.” Juan concluded as he tried to take the box off the shelf alone, almost dropping the box on his foot in the process._

Juan was shaken from his thoughts when Fernando shouted at him. “Juan! You’re not looking at the camera!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled and plastered on a huge smile, looking at the camera.

 

They spent the next hour or so opening the multitude of gifts that Juan had bought for Isabel in the run up to Christmas. Any time he saw anything he was unable to stop himself from buying it for his daughter. Even though she was too young to have any grasp on the concept of Christmas and gift giving, Juan found himself hiding all of Isabel’s gifts in the back of his wardrobe so there would be no chance that she’d get to see them before Christmas morning.

Although later on Juan realised that maybe he shouldn’t have bothered with the gifts, as Isabel seemed infinitely more impressed by their packaging. She sat on the floor rustling her way through the wrapping paper that was left after opening her gifts. Isabel was particularly enthralled by the purple glittery paper that he’d wrapped a lovely hat and scarf set in, Juan didn’t even have the heart to try and tidy up, she seemed like she was having a ball, giggling and scrunching up the paper in her little fists.

Fernando sat by documenting the whole gift-opening experience, taking pictures and videos of father and daughter.

“Oh, it’s 2 o clock, isn’t it?” Juan asked Fernando as he changed Isabel’s nappy. Fernando checked his watch and nodded. 

“I have to Skype with my parents, you know my mama.” He wanted to talk to his parents well before he had to meet up with the team. Emma had offered to take Isabel to her parent’s house in the evening so that she could spend all of Christmas day with her family, and still look after Isabel. Juan had agreed quickly, he felt bad enough about asking Emma to work on Christmas day, he couldn’t deny letting her spend time with her loved ones too.

Fernando smiled knowingly, everyone heard about how protective Juan’s mother was - the other guys on the team teased him about it mercilessly. Although, Juan was never too bothered – taking all of the joking good-naturedly - he would never shy away from telling people how much he loved his family.

“Okay, come to think of it, I need to phone Israel to wish him a Merry Christmas.”

It didn’t take more than a minute or so to get his parents on Skype, when the video from their side popped up on Juan’s screen all he could see was Paula sitting there. She smiled at Juan and Isabel who was perched on Juan’s lap and shouted for her parents to come and sit down too. They exchanged greetings, and Juan’s mother immediately started questioning him about his day. He managed to answer them all satisfactorily and his mum backed off a little.

“Don’t mind her, she just misses you.” Juan Sr. smiled wryly.

“I miss you all too, and so does Isabel,” he glanced down to see his daughter trying to put her own foot in her mouth; she was paying no attention what so ever to her grandparents and aunt. 

“It’s weird not seeing you,” Paula commented. “Isabel’s getting so big, I’ll have to come by and see you in the next few months.”

“Definitely,” Juan replied. “I miss you!”

“I’m not coming to see you – I miss Isabel!” Paula quipped, teasing her little brother. 

Juan’s mother then chastised Paula for being rude to her brother; it was Juan’s turn to smile smugly at his older sister. 

The door opened behind him, and Juan turned around to see Fernando enter the room, hanging up his phone as he walked over the threshold.

“Israel said hi,” Fernando looked up and noticed that Juan was still on Skype. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll go wait in the other room.”

Just as he was about to stop Fernando, his mum cut him off. “Who is there, Juan?” Fernando was out of the line of vision of his laptop’s camera, so although they would have been able to hear him, Juan’s family couldn’t see Fernando.

“It’s Fernando,” Juan waved him over, patting the empty seat next to him. 

“Hi Mr and Mrs Mata, hey Paula.” Fernando greeted shyly, waving at them.

“Fernando had no one to spend Christmas day with so I invited him over to spend it with me and Isabel.” Paula gave Juan a look he couldn’t quite decipher, but he felt the need to defend himself. “He came over this morning.”

“This morning, sure.” Paula commented, her sarcasm going completely over their parents’ heads. 

Juan could feel the faint blush on his face, knowing that Paula had cottoned on to what was going on between him and Fernando. 

Luckily, Fernando could think on his feet. “How is your Christmas so far Mr and Mrs Mata?”

Then his parents went on a 10-minute tangent about how they were having a lovely day and the only thing that would make it better was if they could see Juan and Isabel.

“Don’t worry, I’m looking after them,” Fernando smiled confidently, taking Isabel from Juan after she held her arms out to Fernando, demanding to be picked up.

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’m glad the two of you are keeping each other company.” Juan’s father nodded sagely, but then he grimaced slightly. No one else noticed but Juan’s mother.

“Right, Juan, sorry, you’re father’s in pain, so we’re going to have to go. I love you and I hope you have a lovely day.”

“Love you too, mamá. Bye!” He waved and clicked out of the window and shut his laptop. 

“Before you ask, I didn’t want to say anything to my parents because I didn’t want to tell them via Skype.” Juan babbled quickly.

Fernando laughed at the younger man’s worried demeanour. “Don’t worry about it, we barely know what this is yet, you don’t need to rush to tell anybody.”

 

Later that day, after Juan had dropped Isabel off at Emma’s parent’s house, he and Fernando drove to Cobham to meet up with the rest of the team.

As they were driving down the A3, slowing down to stop at a red light, Fernando placed his hand on top of Juan’s, which was on the gear stick. He brushed his thumb over Juan’s knuckles lightly causing the younger man to fail to supress a grin. 

They arrived at Cobham a little early; a few other players were milling around, grabbing drinks for the journey and chatting to one another. Juan noticed David sitting alone in the corner and the pair went to talk to him.

They’d barely sat down before David spoke. “Something’s different.”

“What are you talking about?” Fernando asked, reclining on the sofa.

“You two…did _something_ happen?”

Fernando and Juan shared a look, David’s incredibly astute nature never failed to amaze Juan. 

“Something _did_ happen!” The Brazilian clapped happily.

He waited for either of them to say something, but neither did. Soon enough, Juan figured the longer they didn’t say anything, the more they were confirming David’s suspicions. 

“Something did happen, but keep it under your hat please, we’re trying to figure it out.” Juan said, resting his hand on Fernando’s knee.

“I will,” David grinned widely at them for a few beats, then springing out of his seat to pull them both into a hug. “I’m so happy for both of you.”

He pulled back and looked at both of them for a second, with a pat to Juan’s head, he got up and left them there.

 

During the match on Boxing Day, Juan started (although Fernando didn’t), and had a good game. He felt lighter on the pitch, he ran to heart’s content, not everything he tried came off, but in creative positions, that’s only to be expected. Although he got subbed off for André at around 70 minutes; Juan was still at a loss as to why the boss wouldn’t play him for a full 90 minutes.

“I just don’t get it. How can I go from being so important to sitting on the bench more often than not?” Juan had confided in Fernando on the coach back to London

“There’s nothing to worry about, when the club needs you – and they will – they’ll call upon you.” Fernando said wisely and clasped Juan’s hand within his own, calming the younger man’s nerves. 

 

Both men sat on the bench for the next match against Liverpool. Chelsea won, and it was three points hard earned, they were keeping pace with Manchester City and Arsenal, while Liverpool were quickly slipping down from their position at the top of the table. 

“Peekaboo!” Fernando called, after revealing his face from behind one of Isabel’s blankets. She looked up at him squealing and giggling every time Fernando reappeared.

Juan came back into the room with Emma and surveyed the scene before him, his boyfriend (were they even calling themselves that?) playing with his daughter; it was the picture of domestic bliss. Juan walked over and pressed a kiss into Isabel’s hair, he hesitated for a second before dropping a kiss to the crown of Fernando’s head too. 

He stood up and walked past Emma, choosing to ignore the way her jaw was hanging slack. It didn’t take long before he heard her speedy footsteps following him into the kitchen. 

“What?” Juan smiled, feigning ignorance. 

“You know what!” Emma whisper-shouted, hitting Juan with a tea towel. “How could you not tell me!”

“So you’re not surprised?”

“ _Surprised_? The only thing I’m surprised about is that it took you two so damn long to figure it out!” she laughed, tightening the ponytail that her hair was in.

“What do you mean?” Juan asked dumbly.

“You two have been in love with each other forever, right? I mean, since I got here you’ve both been making googly eyes at one another when you think the other one isn’t looking.”

Juan’s eyes widened in realisation, how had been so obvious and oblivious at the same time?

“I-I don’t know.” He stammered. “But we are a thing now. Just keep it to yourself please.”

“Of course I will, your romantic life is nothing to do with me. But I should let you know that I am very happy for you, he’s lovely.”

“Thank you,” Juan said bashfully. “I think so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Juan's move to United, and the fact that I've been keeping this story relatively close to the event's of the football season, I think this story might be coming to an end. I have an idea for one last chapter, but after that, I think that might be it. I want to thank you all for reading and commenting. It means a lot.


	16. Sixteen

On the 2nd January, the back pages of the newspapers were awash with pictures of Juan after he’d been substituted against Southampton. Mourinho had hauled him off during the Southampton match after only 53 minutes. Something came over Juan, something he’d rarely experienced before because of football, he was angry. He was truly angry, not even at Mourinho, just at the situation. Nothing he did seemed to be good enough, nothing he did seemed to have enough impact on the game, he couldn’t break back into his regular starting position in the side and he was at a loss as to why. 

He threw the coat down that one of the kit men had handed him as he left the pitch, and sat down petulantly in his seat, crossing his arms like a little child who had just been scolded by their mother. He hated being on the bench - he absolutely loathed it. Especially when he knew that he had more to offer than he was currently showing. 

After the match he skulked back to the changing room, not talking to or making eye contact with anyone, only grunting at those who talked to him. Juan tried not to notice their looks of surprise, but they all looked shocked, usually Juan was as polite as he could be to everyone that he came into contact with. 

With an air of pure ire about him, Juan showered and threw his stuff in his bag, left the changing room and sat on the coach. It wasn’t long before Fernando sat down next to him, though Juan ignored him completely, shoving his headphones into his ears and looking out of the window for the whole journey back to London. He was aware he was acting like a child, but at that moment he couldn’t have cared less. The months of sitting on the bench had finally got to him, had finally come to a head and he didn’t want to talk to anyone for fear of either breaking down or screaming at them. Juan wasn’t sure which way it would go, and he didn’t think he wanted to find out. 

Fernando followed Juan silently once they left the coach at Cobham. But once they were by Juan’s car (they’d driven in together), Fernando wordlessly took the keys from the younger man and pushed him in the direction of the passenger’s side. 

They got the lift up to Juan’s flat and the apartment was silent. Juan unlocked the door and went to check on Isabel. She was sleeping silently in her room, and soft light filtered out from under Emma’s bedroom door, but Juan didn’t bother her. When he made his way back into the living room, Fernando was standing by the door awkwardly, still holding his bag.

“I think I’m just going to go.” He murmured, nodding his head towards the door to emphasise his point. 

Juan didn’t even answer, but as he looked at Fernando standing there, the older man’s face painted with concern, Juan’s defence fell. He walked over to Fernando and just wrapped his arms around him, standing on his tiptoes to rest his chin on Fernando’s shoulder.

Some amount of time later (Juan hadn’t paid attention to how long they stood there), Fernando moved back and cupped Juan’s face in his hands. He pressed a soft kiss to Juan’s forehead. “Come on,” he whispered, taking Juan’s hand and they went to Juan’s room. 

Once they’d both brushed their teeth, they collapsed into bed, tired from the match/travelling and also emotionally. Fernando opened his arms and Juan settled into them, it didn’t take long before both of them had fallen asleep. 

 

The sound of the blender woke Juan from his slumber and forced him out of bed. 

Fernando stood in the kitchen with no shirt on, his pyjama trousers hanging low on his hips and his short hair tousled. On the table were two slices of toast and a small bowl of porridge with a swirl of honey in it and toasted almonds sprinkled on top, just the way Juan liked it. 

“Morning,” Fernando smiled, taking a sip of his smoothie, leaving him with a red moustache when he pulled the glass away. Juan giggled and wiped away the remnants from Fernando’s top lip, licking his thumb after he’d done so. 

“Strawberry, raspberry and...banana?” He queried. Fernando nodded and took another sip, although this time being careful not to get any of his face. “Good choice.”

This was a scene that had played out many times over the past few weeks. Emma usually took Isabel out for a walk and then a quick swing by the supermarket while Juan and Fernando would wake up and get ready for training. Although the events of that day were the same as many that preceded it, the atmosphere felt different, cautious almost. They still hadn’t talked about Juan’s little temper tantrum the day before and it was weighing the room down. 

Fernando said “So…” at the same time Juan mumbled, “About yesterday…”

Juan kept talking because he knew if he didn’t say something now, he probably wouldn’t say anything at all. “I know I acted like a dick yesterday, but I’m just finding it really hard to have gone from such an important place in the team, to having my role become so insignificant. And it’s hard to be upset about it, because I understand that it’s nothing personal, but when I see them – Oscar, Eden and Willian - out there playing so well, and winning matches for the team, it doesn’t feel right. I want to be out there, I want to be helping this club win something – it used to be me helping the team win matches. If we win the league, I want to be part of it. When we won the World Cup, although I was the happiest I’d ever been at that point, the victory felt a little hollow because I hadn’t really helped us to win it. And I don’t want that to happen at Chelsea. The club means too much to me.” He stopped himself because he was finding it hard to breathe because he had said so much, maybe too much, so quickly. 

Feeling lighter, Juan looked up at Fernando and was expecting him to say something – either to berate him for being so selfish or to reassure him that he’d be back in the team before he knew it. But Fernando did neither, he just got out of his seat and walked around the counter and pulled Juan into a hug, the younger man’s cheek was pressed against Fernando’s chest. The steady sound of Fernando’s heartbeat calmed Juan somewhat. 

During the match against Manchester United, Fernando picked up an injury to his knee, and after the match he found out that he was likely to miss up to four weeks.

“My knees are wrecked, it’s no surprise that I keep getting injured. They’re being held together with duct tape right now.” He laughed referring to the tape the medical staff had recommended he wear on his knees whenever he was playing or training. “I’m running on borrowed time.” He laughed, long ago Fernando had come to terms with the fact that he knees were probably what was going to force him to retire sooner or later. And he thought, why not joke about it? There was no point being sad after the career he’d had and how much he’d won and how much he’d overcome. 

“You’ll be back in no time, stronger than ever.” Juan clapped Fernando’s thigh, being careful to avoid his knee. He wandered away, answering a phone call, when Eva called Fernando over to talk about recovery. 

Later the pair were in the car park, putting their bags into the boot of Juan’s car. “You’re going to stay at mine for the next few days, right?” Juan asked, Fernando relayed to Eva said he needed to be off his feet for three days before he could start a slow recovery process.

 

“Is it true?” Fernando asked, barely looking at Juan, instead he placed a block in the tower that Isabel was building. 

Juan fiddled with the drawstring of his hoodie for a few more seconds. He knew that what he was about to say would change his life forever, and Juan wasn’t completely sure that it would be for the better. 

“Please, just tell me.” Fernando said quietly. 

Juan took a deep breath. “It is.” He tried to ignore the look on Fernando’s face. “I still have to pass a medical, and agree some stuff, but it’s pretty much done.”

“When do you leave?” Fernando asked, turning ever so slightly away from Juan.

“In a few days.” The guilt was building up inside him and there was nothing Juan could to stop it, all he could do with deal with it and hope Fernando wasn’t too harsh on him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” the older man’s face was soft, but his features blatantly displayed the hurt that he was feeling.

“It all happened so quickly. They only contacted me properly a few days ago.”

“A few days ago? That was more than enough time for you to talk to me about it.”

Isabel crawled up to Juan and sat on his feet. She wanted to be picked up, so Juan obliged, resting her on his lap. 

“Hey baby,” Juan feathered kisses to his daughter’s dark curls, obviously trying to distract himself from the conversation. 

Fernando stood up abruptly and made his way to the door, not bothering to look back. Juan jumped up, following him.

“Please don’t go, we need to talk about this.” Juan pleaded.

“You don’t seem to want to discuss this life changing decision you've just made with me, so I thought I should just get out of your hair.” Fernando said, the softness in his face had disappeared and now his expression was stony. 

“Just let me put Isabel down for her nap and we can talk about this properly. _Please_.”

The door closed with a click, and Fernando returned to the living room and sat on the sofa. But not like he usually would, when he’d splay out his long limbs, taking up all the space he felt like; he sat on one end, with his jacket and shoes still on, like he was waiting for a job interview.

With a sigh, Juan sat back down on the sofa. He reached for Fernando’s hand before he’d even said a word. “I just can’t bare sitting on the bench any longer. I know I’m selfish, but I really need to play. It’s not about the World Cup, it’s about me.”

“What about…” Fernando began, but trailed off. Juan knew he wanted to say _What about us._

“For my career, I need to do this, I need to go somewhere and lay regularly, if I don’t, I’ll rot on the Chelsea bench. And I don’t want that, I love this club too much. I want to go somewhere they need me.”

Fernando’s eyes had welled up, but no tears had fallen, and he let out a thick laugh. “You sound like Mary Poppins.”

It was so unexpected that Juan couldn’t help but laugh too. “You know I love you, right?” Fernando nodded. “No, I don’t mean like a friend, or a brother. I _love you_.”

“I love you too. And that’s the problem.” The older man sniffed, taking his hands out of Juan’s and placing them in his own lap. “We’ve been through so much together and I don’t know how I’m going to cope without you.”

“You’ll have Cesar, you’ll have Branislav, you’ll have everyone on the team.” Juan said feebly.

“That’s not the same, and you know what I mean.” 

“I know.” Juan stopped, but then added, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” 

“But I really am sorry that this has to end before it really got a chance to begin. This could have been something incredible.”

“I guess we’ll never know, will we?” Fernando pulled Juan into a hug and kissed his lips.

“We’re talking like we’ll never see each other again. There’s the summer, and La Roja.”

“I can’t be sure that I’ll ever get called up again,” Fernando stated matter-of-factly. 

Juan was about to reassure Fernando that he would, but neither of them could be sure, and he knew how Fernando hated being coddled and force to be optimistic. _‘I’m not pessimistic, I’m realistic’_ was Fernando’s trademark phrase when he was scolded for being too negative. 

A few seconds passed in silence and Fernando thought about the future, a future without seeing his best friend every day. He didn’t like it at all, but he realised it was something he had no control over, it was happening, and much too soon for his liking. 

“What about Emma?”

“She said she’d move with me.” Juan answered. “When I first asked if I could be reassured about my future at the club, and I wasn’t given a concrete answer, I hypothetically asked Emma if she’d be willing to move with me, and she agreed.”

“At least you’ll have someone familiar there with you.” Fernando conceded.

The rest of that day passed in a sort of blur, and so did the days that followed. As much as Fernando tried (and, boy, did he try), he couldn’t stop himself from crying when he said goodbye to Isabel.

“You be good for your dad, and Emma.” Isabel just laid a hand on Fernando’s cheek and when she kissed the tip of his nose, something she only ever did to him, and then giggled happily to herself, Fernando had to turn away. 

Emma, who had been standing off to the side, picked Isabel and took her back to her room. Juan was being taken up north by a helicopter that had been provided by Manchester United so he could go to their training ground, complete his medical and sign his contract. Emma and Isabel would join him in a week or so after the flat that the club were providing was ready. Up until then, Juan was staying with David De Gea while he got to grips with his new club.

“I’m going to miss you,” Juan said, the tears sliding down his cheeks, wrapping his arms around Fernando’s neck, rolling up on to tip toes to rest his chin on Fernando’s shoulder. 

“Shh,” Fernando soothed him. “You’re going to be amazing, you go up there and show them what you’re made of.”

“Thank you, I will.”

“And try not to score against Chelsea next time we play you guys.” Fernando joked lightly. 

Juan’s heart sunk at the thought of playing against his former teammates, trying to beat them, going into the away dressing room at Stamford Bridge, never going back to Cobham again, and not being able to be with Fernando anymore. And for a split second he wondered if he’d made the right decision to leave Chelsea. Then Fernando smiled at him, kissed the corner of his mouth and smiled, “Make me proud.”

 

The helicopter was circling above Carrington and Juan looked out of the window down at the training ground. It looked different to Cobham, and although that was to be expected, Juan felt nervous about the new chapter of his life beginning.

In his pocket, his phone vibrated and he saw a text from De Gea _Are you coming by helicopter or by bicycle? :-)_ Juan shook his head at his friend and was about to put his phone away when he received another text. All day long he’d been ignoring texts from his former teammates because he never got to say goodbye as the deal went through so quickly (and Juan hated the fact that he never got to properly thank them all for the amazing things they'd achieved together and the wonderful time he'd had), but this one was from Fernando. 

_Next time we have a day off, I’m coming up to Manchester and you can cook me dinner (actually cooked by you, no takeaways). Love you xx_

His lips curled into a smile, he slid his phone back into his pocket and stepped off the helicopter, brushed down his blazer, and looked up to see David Moyes waiting for him. Immediately, Juan plastered on his most brilliant smile and shook hands with his new manager. 

“Thank you for having me.” Juan said politely.

“No, thank you for being here.” David replied, and they posed for a couple of pictures together. “Welcome to Manchester, we’re excited to have you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the end of the story. I hope you all enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. It had a sort of weird, abrupt ending, and I apologise for that, my plans changed drastically after Juan's move to United. 
> 
> I do have tentative ideas for a one shot set in the future when Isabel is a teenager, so hopefully I'll get around to writing that at some point. 
> 
> But thank you all again for reading, it means a lot.


End file.
